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Mr. DOOLEY’S 
PHILOSOPHY 


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Illustrated by 

WILLIAM NICHOLSON 

E. W. KEMBLE 

F. OPPER. 

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71. //. RX/SSELL, Publisher 

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65959 


Library of Congress 

Two Copies Receiveo 

OCT 25 1900 

Copyright entry 

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-OCT 27- 1900 



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PREFACE 

HE reporter of these monologues would 
apologize for the frequent reappear- 
ances of Mr. Dooley, if he felt the old 
gentleman would appreciate an apol- 
ogy in his behalf. But Mr. Dooley has none of the 
modesty that has been described as “ an inven- 
tion for protection against envy,” because unlike 
that one of his distinguished predecessors who dis- 
covered this theory to excuse his own imperfect but 
boastful egotism, he recognizes no such human 
failing as envy. Most of the papers in the present 
collection of the sayings of this great and learned 
man, have appeared in the press of America and 
England. This will account for the fact that they 
deal with subjects that have pressed hard upon 
the minds of newspaper readers, statesmen, and 
tax-payers during the year. To these utterances 

[ 7 ] 



PREFACE 


have been added a number of obiter dicta by the 
philosopher, which, perhaps, will be found to have 
the reminiscent flavor that appertains to the obser- 
vations of all learned judges when they are off the 
bench. 

In some cases the sketches have been remodelled 
and care has been taken to correct typographical 
blunders, except where they seemed to improve the 
text. In this connection the writer must offer his 
profound gratitude to the industrious typographer, 
who often makes two jokes grow where only one 
grew before, and has added generously to the dis- 
tress of amateur elocutionists. 

F. P. D. 


[ 8 ] 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A Book Review 13 

Americans Abroad 19 

Servant Girl Problem 27 

The Transvaal 35 

War and War Makers 43 

Underestimating the Enemy 49 

The War Expert • • 55 

Modern Explosives ... 63 

The Boer Mission 69 

The Chinese Situation 77 

Minister Wu 83 

The Future of China 91 

Platform Making 97 

President's Message 103 

Polygamy 109 

Public Fickleness 115 

Kentucky Politics 121 

[9] 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Young Oratory 129 

Public Gratitude 135 

Marriage and Politics 141 

Alcohol as Food 149 

High Finance 155 

The Paris Exposition 161 

Christian Journalism 169 

The Admiral’s Candidacy 175 

Customs of Kentucky 181 

A Society Scandal 189 

Doings of Anarchists 195 

Anglo-American Sports 201 

Voices from the Tomb 209 

The Negro Problem 217 

The American Stage 223 

Troubles of a Candidate 229 

A Bachelor’s Life 235 

The Education of the Young ..... 243 

“L’Aiglon” 251 

Casual Observations 257 


[10] 


'BooK.'Re'Vtetv 


) 



A BOOK REVIEW 


ELL sir,” said Mr. Dooley, “ I jus’ got 
hold iv a book, Hinnissy, that suits me 
up to th’ handle, a gran’ book, th’ 
grandest iver seen. Ye know I’m not 
much throubled be lithrachoor, havin’ manny wor- 
ries iv me own, but I’m not prejudiced again’ 
books. I am not. Whin a rale good book comes 
along I’m as quick as anny wan to say it isn’t so 
bad, an’ this here book is fine. I tell ye ’tis fine.” 

“ What is it ? ” Mr. Hennessy asked languidly. 

“’Tis 4 Th’ Biography iv a Hero be Wan who 
Knows.’ ’Tis ‘Th’ Darin’ Exploits iv a Brave 
Man be an Actual Eye Witness.’ ’Tis ‘ Th’ Ac- 
count iv th’ Desthruction iv Spanish Power in th’ 
Ant Hills,’ as it fell fr’m th’ lips iv Tiddy Rosenfelt 
an’ was took down be his own hands. Ye see ’twas 
this way, Hinnissy, as I r-read th’ book. Whin 
Tiddy was blowed up in th’ harbor iv Havana he 

[*3] 



A BOOK REVIEW 


instantly con-cluded they must be war. He de- 
bated th’ question long an’ earnestly an’ fin’lly 
passed a jint resolution declarin’ war. So far so 
good. But there was no wan to carry it on. What 
shud he do ? I will lave th’ janial author tell th’ 
story in his own wurruds. 

“‘Th’ sicrety iv war had offered me,’ he says, 
‘ th’ command of a rig’mint,’ he says, 6 but I cud 
not consint to remain in Tampa while perhaps less 
audacious heroes was at th’ front,’ he says. ‘Be- 
sides,’ he says, ‘ I felt I was incompetent f’r to com- 
mand a rig’mint raised be another,’ he says. ‘ I 
detarmined to raise wan iv me own,’ he says. ‘ I 
selected fr’m me acquaintances in th’ West,’ he 
says, ‘ men that had thravelled with me acrost th’ 
desert an’ th’ storm-wreathed mountain,’ he says, 
‘ sharin’ me burdens an’ at times confrontin’ perils 
almost as gr-reat as anny that beset me path,’ he 
says. ‘Together we had faced th’ turrors iv th’ 
large but vilent West,’ he says, ‘ an’ these brave 
men had seen me with me trusty rifle shootin’ down 
th’ buffalo, th’ elk, th’ moose, th’ grizzly bear, th’ 
mountain goat,’ he says, ‘th’ silver man, an’ other 
ferocious beasts iv thim parts,’ he says. ‘ An’ they 
niver flinched,’ he says. ‘ In a few days I had thim 
perfectly tamed,’ he says, ‘an’ ready to go anny- 

[14] 


\ 


A BOOK REVIEW 


where I led,’ he says. ‘ On th’ thransport goi’n to 
Cubia,’ he says, ‘ I wud stand beside wan iv these 
r-rough men threatin’ him as a akel, which he was 
in ivrything but birth, education, rank an’ courage, 
an’ together we wud look up at th’ admirable stars 
iv that tolerable southern sky an’ quote th’ bible 



fr’m Walt Whitman,’ he says. ‘Honest, loyal, 
thrue-hearted la-ads, how kind I was to thim,’ he 
says. 

“‘We had no sooner landed in Cubia than it 
become nicessry f’r me to take command iv th* 
ar-rmy which I did at wanst. A number of days 
was spint be me in reconnoitring, attinded on’y be 
me brave an’ fluent body guard, Richard Harding 
Davis. I discovered that th’ inimy was heavily in- 

[15] 



A BOOK REVIEW 

threnched on th’ top iv San Joon hill immejiately 
in front iv me. At this time it become appar- 
ent that I was handicapped be th’ prisence iv th’ 
ar-rmy,’ he says. 4 Wan day whin I was about 
to charge a block house sturdily definded be an 
ar-rmy corps undher Gin’ral Tamale, th’ brave Cas- 
tile that I aftherwards killed with a small ink-eraser 
that I always carry, I r-ran into th’ entire military 
force iv th’ United States lying on its stomach. 
6 If ye won’t fight,’ says I, ‘ let me go through,’ I 
says. 4 Who ar-re ye ’ says they. 4 Colonel Ro- 
senfelt,’ says I. 4 Oh, excuse me,’ says the gin’ral 
in command (if me mimry serves me thrue it 
was Miles) r-risin’ to his knees an salutin’. This 
showed me ’twud be impossible f’r to carry th’ war 
to a successful con-clusion unless I was free, so I 
sint th’ ar-rmy home an’ attackted San Joon hill. 
Ar-rmed on’y with a small thirty-two which I used 
in th’ West to shoot th’ fleet prairie dog, I climbed 
that precipitous ascent in th’ face iv th’ most gallin’ 
fire I iver knew or heerd iv. But I had a few 
r-rounds iv gall mesilf an’ what cared I ? I dashed 
madly on cheerin’ as I wint. Th’ Spanish throops 
was dhrawn up in a long line in th’ formation 
known among military men as a long line. I fired 
at th’ man nearest to me an’ I knew be th’ expres- 
[16] 


A BOOK REVIEW 


sion iv his face that th* trusty bullet wint home. 
It passed through his frame, he fell, an’ wan little 
home in far-off Catalonia was made happy be th’ 
thought that their riprisintative had been kilt be th* 
future governor iv New York. Th’ bullet sped on 
its mad flight an’ passed through th’ intire line 
fin’lly imbeddin* itself in th’ abdomen iv th’ Ar-rch- 
bishop iv Santiago eight miles away. This ended 
th’ war/ 

“ ‘ They has been some discussion as to who was 
th’ first man to r-reach th’ summit iv San Juon hill. 
I will not attempt to dispute th’ merits iv th’ 
manny gallant sojers, statesmen, corryspondints an’ 
kinetoscope men who claim th’ distinction. They 
ar-re all brave men an’ if they wish to wear my lau- 
rels they may. I have so manny annyhow that it 
keeps me broke havin’ thim blocked an’ irned. 
But I will say f’r th’ binifit iv Posterity that I was 
th’ on’y man I see. An’ I had a tillyscope/ ” 

“ I have thried, Hinnissy,” Mr. Dooley contin- 
ued, “ to give you a fair idee iv th’ contints iv this 
remarkable book, but what I’ve tol’ ye is on’y what 
Hogan calls an outline iv th’ principal pints. Ye’ll 
have to r-read th’ book ye’ersilf to get a thrue con- 
ciption. I haven’t time f’r to tell ye th’ wurruk 
Tiddy did in ar-rmin an’ equippin’ himself, how 

X 1 7 D 


A BOOK REVIEW 


he fed himsilf, how he steadied himsilf in battle 
an' encouraged himsilf with a few well-chosen 
wurruds whin th’ sky was darkest. Ye’ll have to 
take a squint into th’ book ye’ersilf to l’arn thim 
things.” 

“ I won’t do it,” said Mr. Hennessy. “ I think 
Tiddy Rosenfelt is all r-right an’ if he wants to 
blow his hor-rn lave him do it.” 

“ Thrue f ’r ye,” said Mr. Dooley, “ an’ if his 
valliant deeds didn’t get into this book ’twud be a 
long time befure they appeared in Shafter’s histhry 
iv th’ war. No man that bears a gredge again’ him- 
silf ’ll iver be governor iv a state. An’ if Tiddy 
done it all he ought to say so an relieve th’ sus- 
pinse. But if I was him I’d call th’ book Alone 
in Cubia/ ” 


[. 8 ] 


AMERICANS ABROAD 


WONDHER,” said Mr. Dooley, “what 
me Dutch frind Oom Paul’ll think whin 
he hears that Willum Waldorf Asthor 
has given four thousan’ pounds or 
twinty thousan’ iv our money as a conthribution to 
th’ British governmint ? ” 

“Who’s Willum Waldorf Asthor?” Mr. Hen- 
nessy asked. “ I niver heerd iv him.” 

“Ye wudden’t,” said Mr. Dooley. “He don’t 
thravel in ye’er set. Willum Waldorf Asthor is a 
gintleman that wanst committed th’ sin iv bein’ 
bor-rn in this counthry. Ye know what orig-inal 
sin is, Hinnissy. Ye was bor-rn with wan an’ I 
was bor-rn with wan an’ ivrybody was bor-rn with 
wan. ’Twas took out iv me be Father Tuomy 
with holy wather first an’ be me father aftherward 
with a sthrap. But I niver cud find out what it 
Th’ sins I’ve committed since, I’m sure iv. 

[ 19] 



was. 


AMERICANS ABROAD 


They’re painted red an’ carry a bell an’ whin I’m 
awake in bed they stan’ out on th’ wall like th’ ilic- 
thric signs they have down be State sthreet in front 
iv th’ clothin’ stores. But I’ll go to th’ grave with- 
out knowin’ exactly what th’ black orig-inal sin was 
I committed. All I know is I done wrong. But 
with W ilium Waldorf Asthor ’tis diffrent. I say 
’tis diff’rent with Willum Waldorf Asthor. His 
orig-inal sin was bein’ bor-rn in New York. He 
cudden’t do anything about it. Nawthin’ in this 
counthry wud wipe it out. He built a hotel in- 
tinded f’r jooks who had no sins but thim iv their 
own makin’, but even th’ sight iv their haughty bills 
cud not efface th’ stain. He thried to live down his 
crime without success an’ he thried to live down to 
it be runnin’ f’r congress, but it was no go. No 
matther where he wint among his counthrymen in 
England some wan wud find out he was bor-rn in 
New York an’ th’ man that ownded th’ house where 
he was spindin’ th’ night wud ast him if he was a 
cannibal an’ had he anny Indyan blood in his veins. 
’Twas like seein’ a fine lookin’ man with an intel- 
lecjal forehead an’ handsome, dar-rk brown eyes an’ 
admirin’ him, an’ thin lamin’ his name is Mudd J. 
Higgins. His accint was proper an’ his clothes 
didn’t fit him right, but he was not bor-rn in th’ 
[ 20 ] 


AMERICANS ABROAD 


home iv his dayscindants, an’ whin he walked th’ 
sthreets iv London he knew ivry polisman was 
sayin’ : 4 There goes a man that pretinds to be 
happy, but a dark sorrow is gnawin’ at his bosom. 
He looks as if he was at home, but he was bor-rn 
in New York, Gawd help him.’ 

“ So this poor way-worn sowl, afther thryin’ ivry 



other rimidy fr’m dhrivin’ a coach to failin’ to vote, 
at las’ sought out th’ rile high dark iv th’ coort an’ 
says he : 6 Behold,’ he says, ‘ an onhappy man,’ he 

says. ‘ With millyons in me pocket, two hotels an’ 
onlimited credit,’ he says, ‘me hear-rt is gray,’ 
he says. 6 Poor sowl,’ says th’ dark iv th’ coort, 
‘ What’s ailin’ ye ? ’ he says. ‘ Have ye committed 
[ 21 ] 



AMERICANS ABROAD 


some gr-reat crime ? ’ he says. ‘Partly,’ says W il- 
ium Waldorf Asthor. ‘ It was partly me an 5 partly 
me folks,’ he says. ‘ I was,’ he says, in a voice 
broken be tears, ‘ I was,’ he says, ‘ bor-rn in New 
York,’ he says. Th’ dark made th’ sign iv th’ 
cross an’ says he : ‘Ye shudden’t have come here,’ 
he says. ‘ Poor afflicted wretch,’ he says, ‘ ye need 
a clargyman,’ he says. ‘Why did ye seek me 
out?’ he says. ‘Because,’ says Willum Waldorf 
Asthor, ‘ I wish,’ he says, ‘ f ’r to renounce me sinful 
life,’ he says. ‘ I wish to be bor-rn anew,’ he says. 
An’ th’ dark bein’ a kind man helps him out. An’ 
Willum Waldorf Asthor renounced fealty to all 
foreign sovereigns, princes an’ potentates an’ es- 
pecially Mack th’ Wanst, or Twict, iv th’ United 
States an’ Sulu an’ all his wur-ruks an’ he come out 
iv th’ coort with his hat cocked over his eye, with a 
step jaunty and high, afther years iv servile freedom 
a bondman at last ! 

“ So he’s a citizen iv Gr-reat Britain now an’ a 
lile subject iv th’ Queen like you was Hinnissy 
befure ye was r-run out.” 

“ I niver was,” said Mr. Hennessy. “ Sure th’ 
Queen iv England was renounced f’r me long 
befure I did it f’r mesilf — to vote.” 

“Well, niver mind,” Mr. Dooley continued, 

[ 22 ] 


AMERICANS ABROAD 


“ he’s a citizen iv England an’ he has a castle that’s 
as big as a hotel, on’y nobody goes there excipt 
thim that’s ast, an’ not all of those, an’ he owns a 
newspaper an’ th’ editor iv it’s the Prince iv Wales 
an’ th’ rayporthers is all jooks an’ th’ Archbishop iv 
Canterbury r-runs th’ ilivator, an’ slug wan in th’ 
printin’ office is th’ Impror iv Germany in disgeese. 
’Tis a pa-per I’d like to see. I’d like to know how 
th’ Jook iv Marlbro’d do th’ McGovern fight. An’ 
some day Willum Waldorf Asthor’ll be able to 
wurruk f’r his own pa-aper, f ’r he’s goin’ to be a 
earl or a markess or a jook or somethin’ gran’. Ye 
can’t be anny iv these things without money, Hin- 
nissy, an’ he has slathers iv it.” 

“ Where does he get it'? ” demanded Mr. Hen- 
nessy. 

“ F’rm this counthry,” said Mr. Dooley. 

“ I shud think,” Mr. Hennessy protested stoutly, 
“ if he’s ashamed iv this counthry he wudden’t want 
to take money f’rm it.” 

“ That’s where ye’re wrong,” Mr. Dooley replied. 
“Take money annywhere ye find it. I’d take 
money f’rm England, much as I despise that former- 
ly haughty but now dejected land, if I cud get anny 
from there. An’ whin ye come down to it, I din- 
naw as I blame Willum Waldorf Asthorf ’r shiftin’ 

[23] 


AMERICANS ABROAD 


his allegiance. Ivry wan to his taste as th’ man said 
whin he dhrank out iv th’ fire extinguisher. It 
depinds on how ye feel. If ye ar-re a tired la-ad 
an’ wan without much fight in ye, livin’ in this 
counthry is like thryin’ to read th’ Lives iv the 
Saints at a meetin’ iv th’ Clan-na-Gael. They’se 
no quiet f’r annybody. They’s a fight on ivry 
minyit iv th’ time. Ye may say to ye’ersilf : ‘ I’ll 

lave these la-ads roll each other as much as they 
plaze, but I’ll set here in th’ shade an’ dhrink me 
milk punch,’ but ye can’t do it. Some wan ’ll say, 
6 Look at that gazabo settin’ out there alone. He’s 
too proud f’r to jine in our simple dimmycratic 
festivities. Lave us go over an’ bate him on th’ 
eye.’ An’ they do it. Now if ye have fightin’ 
blood in ye’er veins ye hastily gulp down ye’er 
dhrink an’ hand ye’er assailant wan that does him no 
kind iv good, an’ th’ first thing ye know ye’re in th’ 
thick iv it an’ its scrap, scrap, scrap till th’ undher- 
taker calls f’r to measure ye. An’ ’tis tin to wan 
they’se somethin’ doin’ at th’ fun’ral that ye’re sorry 
ye missed. That’s life in America. ’Tis a gloryous 
big fight, a rough an’ tumble fight, a Donnybrook 
fair three thousan’ miles wide an’ a ruction in ivry 
block. Head an’ han’s an’ feet an’ th’ pitchers on 
th’ wall. No holds barred. Fight fair but don’t 

[h] 


AMERICANS ABROAD 


f ’rget th’ other la-ad may not know where th’ belt 
line is. No polisman in sight. A man’s down 
with twinty on top iv him wan minyit. Th’ next 
he’s settin’ on th’ pile usin’ a base-ball bat on th’ 
neighbor next below him. 6 Come on, boys, f ’r ’tis 
growin’ late, an’ no wan’s been kilt yet. Glory be, 
but this is th’ life ! ’ 

“ Now, if I’m tired I don’t want to fight. A man 
bats me in th’ eye an’ I call f ’r th’ polis. They isn’t 
a polisman in sight. I say to th’ man that poked 
me : 6 Sir, I fain wud sleep.’ 6 Get up,’ he says, 

6 an’ be doin’,’ he says. 4 Life is rale, life is earnest,’ 
he says, 4 an’ man was made to fight,’ he says, fetch- 
in’ me a kick. An’ if I’m tired I say, 4 What’s th’ 
use? I’ve got plenty iv money in me inside 
pocket. I’ll go to a place where they don’t know 
how to fight. I’ll go where I can get something 
but an argymint f ’r me money an’ where I won’t 
have to rassle with th’ man that bates me carpets, 
ayether,’ I says, 4 f ’r fifty cints overcharge or good 
govermint,’ I says. An’ I pike off to what Hogan 
calls th’ effete monarchies iv Europe an’ no wan 
walks on me toes, an’ ivry man I give a dollar to 
becomes an acrobat an’ I live comfortably an’ die a 
markess ! Th’ divvle I do ! 

“That’s what I was goin’ to say,” Mr. Hen- 

[ 25 ] 


AMERICANS ABROAD 


nessy remarked. ‘Ye wudden’t live anny where 
but here.” 

“ No,” said Mr. Dooley, “ I wudden’t. I’d rather 
be Dooley iv Chicago than th’ Earl iv Peltville. It 
must be that I’m iv th’ fightin’ kind.” 


[26] 


SERVANT GIRL 
PROBLEM 

HIN Congress gets through expellin’ 
mimbers that believes so much in math- 
rimony that they carry it into ivry re- 
lation iv life an’ opens th’ dure iv Chiny 
so that an American can go in there as free as a 
Chinnyman can come into this refuge iv th’ op- 
prissed iv th’ wurruld, I hope ’twill turn its attintion 
to th’ gr-reat question now confrontin’ th' nation — 
th’ question iv what we shall do with our hired help. 
What shall we do with thim % 

“We haven’t anny,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“ No,” said Mr. Dooley. “ Ar-rchey r-road has 
no servant girl problem. Th’ rule is ivry woman 
her own cook an’ ivry man his own futman, an’ be 
th’ same token we have no poly-gamy problem an’ 
no open dure problem an’ no Ph’lippeen problem. 

[27] 



SERVANT GIRL PROBLEM 


Th’ on’y problem in Ar-rchey r-road is how manny 
times does round steak go into twelve at wan dollar- 
an-a-half a day. But east iv th’ r-red bridge, Hin- 
nissy, wan iv th’ most cryin’ issues iv th’ hour is : 
What shall we do with our hired help*? An’ if 
Congress don’t take hold iv it we ar-re a rooned 
people. 

“ ’T is an ol’ problem an’ I’ve seen it arise an’ 
shake its gory head ivry few years whiniver th’ 
Swede popylation got wurruk an’ begun bein’ marrid, 
thus rayjoocin’ th’ visible supply iv help. But it 
seems ’tis deeper thin that. I see be letters in th’ 
pa-apers that servants is insolent, an’ that they won’t 
go to wurruk onless they like th’ looks iv their em- 
ployers, an’ that they rayfuse to live in th’ counthry. 
Why anny servant shud rayfuse to live in th’ coun- 
thry is more thin I can see. Ye’d think that this 
disreputable class’d give annything to lave th’ crowd- 
ed tinimints iv a large city where they have frinds 
be th’ hundherds an’ know th’ polisman on th’ bate 
an’ can go out to hateful dances an’ moonlight pic- 
nics — ye’d think these unforchnate slaves’d be de- 
lighted to live in Mulligan’s subdivision, amid th’ 
threes an’ flowers an’ bur-rds. Gettin’ up at four 
o’clock in th’ mornin’ th’ singin’ iv th’ full-throated 
alarm clock is answered be an invisible choir iv 


SERVANT GIRL PROBLEM 


songsters, as Shakespere says, an’ ye see th’ sun rise 
over th’ hills as ye go out to carry in a ton iv coal. 
All day long ye meet no wan as ye thrip over th’ 
coal-scuttle, happy in ye’er tile an’ ye’er heart is en- 
livened be th’ thought that th’ childher in th’ front 
iv th’ house ar-re growin’ sthrong on th’ fr-resh 
counthry air. Besides they’se always cookin’ to do. 
At night ye can set be th’ fire an’ improve ye’er 



mind be r-readin’ half th’ love story in th’ part iv 
th’ pa-aper that th’ cheese come home in, an’ whin 
ye’re through with that, all ye have to do is to 
climb a ladder to th’ roof an’ fall through th’ sky- 
light an’ ye’re in bed. 

“ But wud ye believe it, Hinnissy, manny iv these 
misguided women rayfuse f ’r to take a job that aint 
in a city. They prefer th’ bustle an’ roar iv th’ busy 

[29] 


SERVANT GIRL PROBLEM 


marts iv thrade, th’ sthreet car, th’ saloon on three 
corners an’ th’ church on wan, th’ pa-apers ivry morn- 
in’ with pitchers iv th’ s’ciety fav’rite that’s just 
thrown up a good job at Armours to elope with th’ 
well-known club man who used to be yard-masther 
iv th’ three B’s, G, L, & N., th’ shy peek into th’ 
dhry-goods store, an’ other base luxuries, to a free 
an’ healthy life in th’ counthry between iliven P.M. 
an’ four A.M. Wensdahs an’ Sundahs. ’Tis worse 
thin that, Hinnissy, f’r whin they ar-re in th’ city 
they seem to dislike their wurruk an’ manny iv thim 
ar-re givin’ up splindid jobs with good large families 
where they have no chanst to spind their salaries, if 
they dhraw thim, an’ takin’ places in shops, an’ get- 
tin’ marrid an’ adoptin’ other devices that will give 
thim th’ chanst f’r to wear out their good clothes. 
’Tis a horrible situation. . Riley th’ conthractor 
dhropped in here th’ other day in his horse an’ buggy 
on his way to the dhrainage canal an’ he was all 
wurruked up over th’ question. ‘Why,’ he says, 
‘ ’tis scand’lous th’ way servants act,’ he says. ‘ Mrs. 
Riley has hystrics,’ he says. ‘ An’ ivry two or three 
nights whin I come home,’ he says, ‘ I have to win 
a fight again’ a cook with a stove lid befure I can 
move me family off th’ fr-ront stoop,’ he says. ‘ W e 
threat thim well too,’ he says. ‘ I gave th’ las’ wan 


SERVANT GIRL PROBLEM 


we had fifty cints an’ a cook book at Chris’mas an’ 
th’ next day she left befiire breakfast,’ he says. 
4 What naytionalties do ye hire *? ’ says I. 4 I’ve 
thried thim all,’ he says, 4 an’,’ he says, 4 I’ll say this 
in shame,’ he says, 4 that th’ Irish ar-re th’ worst,’ he 
says. 4 Well,’ says I, 4 ye need have no shame,’ I 
says, 4 f ’r ’tis on’y th’ people that ar-re good servants 
that’ll niver be masthers,’ I says. 4 Th’ Irish ar-re 
no good as servants because they ar-re too good,’ I 
says. 4 Th’ Dutch ar-re no good because they aint 
good enough. No matther how they start they get 
th’ noodle habit. I had wan, wanst, an’ she got so 
she put noodles in me tay,’ I says. 4 Th’ Swedes 
ar-re all right but they always get marrid th’ sicond 
day. Ye’ll have a polisman at th’ dure with a war- 
rant f’r th’ arrist iv ye’er cook if ye hire a Bohee- 
myan,’ I says. 4 Coons’d be all right but they’re lia- 
ble f’r to hand ye ye’er food in ragtime, an’ if ye 
ordher pork-chops f’r dinner an’ th’ hall is long, ’tis 
little ye’ll have to eat whin th’ platter’s set down,’ I 
says. 4 No,’ says I, 4 they’se no naytionality now 
livin’ in this counthry that’re nathral bor-rn servants,’ 
I says. 4 If ye want to save throuble,’ I says, 4 ye’ll 
import ye’er help. They’se a race iv people livin’ 
in Cinthral Africa that’d be jus’ r-right. They niver 
sleep, they can carry twice their weight on their 

[ 3 1 ] 


SERVANT GIRL PROBLEM 

backs, they have no frinds, they wear no clothes, 
they can’t read, they can’t dance an’ they don’t 
dhrink. Th’ fact is they’re thoroughly oneddycated. 
If ye cud tache thim to cook an’ take care iv chil- 
dher they’d be th’ best servants,’ says I. ‘ An’ what 
d’ye call thim ’ says he. * I f ’rget,’ says I. An’ 
he wint away mad.” 

“ Sure an’ he’s a nice man to be talkin’ iv ser- 
vants,” said Mr. Hennessy. “ He was a gintleman’s 
man in th’ oF counthry an’ I used to know his wife 
whin she wurruked f’r — — ” 

“ S-sh,” said Mr. Dooley. “ They’re beyond that 
now. Besides they speak fr’m experyence. An’ 
mebbe that’s th’ throuble. We’re always harder with 
our own kind thin with others. ’Tis I that’d be th’ 
fine cinsor iv a bartinder’s wurruk. Th’ more ye 
ought to be a servant ye’ersilf th’ more difficult ’tis 
f’r ye to get along with servants. I can holler to 
anny man fr’m th’ top iv a buildin’ an’ make him 
tur-rn r-round, but if I come down to th’ sthreet 
where he can see I aint anny bigger thin he is, an’ 
holler at him, ’tis twinty to wan if he tur-rns 
r-round he’ll hit me in th’ eye. We have a servant 
girl problem because, Hinnissy, it isn’t manny years 
since we first begun to have servant girls. But I 
hope Congress’ll take it up. A smart Congress 

[32] 


SERVANT GIRL PROBLEM 


like th’ wan we have now ought to be able to spare 
a little time fr’m its preparation iv new jims iv 
speech f’r th* third reader an’ rig up a bill that’d 
make keepin’ house a recreation while so softenin’ 
th’ spirit iv th’ haughty sign iv a noble race in th’ 
kitchen that cookin’ buckwheat cakes on a hot day 
with th’ aid iv a bottle iv smokeless powdher’d not 
cause her f’r to sind a worthy man to his office in 
slippers an’ without a hat.” 

44 Ah,” said Mr. Hennessy, the simple democrat. 
44 It wud be all r-right if women’d do their own 
cookin’.” 

44 Well,” said Mr. Dooley. 44 ’T wud be a return 
to Jacksonyan simplicity, an’ ’twud be a gr-reat thing 
f’r th’ resthrant business.” 


[33] 


THE TRANSVAAL 


T looks like war,” said Mr Hennessy, 
who had been glancing at the flaming 
head-lines of an evening paper over Mr. 
Dooley’s shoulder. 

“ It always does,” said Mr. Dooley. “ Since th’ 
Czar iv Rooshia inthrajooced his no-fight risolution, 
they’se been no chanst that they wudden’t be ruc- 
tious.” 

“ An’ what’s it all about ? ” demanded Mr. 
Hennessy. “ I can’t make head nor tail iv it at all, 
at all.” 

“Well ye see ’tis this way,” said Mr. Dooley. 
“Ye see th’ Boers is a simple, pasthral people that 
goes about their business in their own way, raisin’ 
hell with ivrybody. They was bor-rn with an aver- 
sion to society an’ whin th’ English come they lit 
out befure thim, not likin’ their looks. Th’ Eng- 
lish kept cornin’ an’ the Boers kept movin’ till they 

[35] 



THE TRANSVAAL 


cudden’t move ann y further without bumpin’ into 
th’ Soodanese ar-rmy an’ thin they settled down an’ 
says they, 4 This far shall we go,’ says they, bein’ a 
rellijous people, 4 an’ divvle th’ sthep further.’ An’ 
they killed off th’ irrelijous naygurs an’ started in 
f’r to raise cattle. An’ at night they’d set outside 
iv their dorps, which, Hinnissy, is Dutch f’r two- 
story brick house an’ lot, an’ sip their la-ager an’ 
swap horses an’ match texts fr’m th’ Bible f’r th’ 
seegars, while th’ childer played marbles with di- 
mons as big as th’ end iv ye’er thumb. 

44 W ell, th’ English heerd they was goold be th* 
bucket in ivry cellar fr’m Oopencoff to Doozle- 
dorf, which, Hinnissy, is like New York an’ San 
Francisco, bein’ th’ exthreme pints iv th’ counthry, 
an’ they come on in gr-re'at hordes, sturdy Anglo- 
Saxons fr’m Saxony, th’ Einsteins an’ Heidlebacks 
an’ Werners an’ whin they took out goold enough 
so’s they needed raycreation they wanted to vote. 
4 An’,’ says Joe Chamberlain, he says, ‘Be hivins, 
they shall vote,’ he says. 4 Is it,’ he says, 4 possible 
that at this stage iv th’ world’s progress’ he says, 
’an English gintleman shud be denied,’ he says, 
4 th’ right to dhrop off a thrain annywhere in th’ civ- 
ilized wurruld an’ cast his impeeryal vote ? ’ he 
says. 4 Give thim th’ franchise,’ he says, 4 or be this 

[36] 



37 



THE TRANSVAAL 


an’ be that ! ’ he says, “ f’r we have put our hand to 
th’ plough, an’ we will not turn back,’ he says. 

“ Kruger, that’s th’ main guy iv th’ Dutch, a fine 
man, Hennissy, that looks like Casey’s goat an’ has 
manny iv th’ same peculyarities, he says, 4 All 
r-right,’ he says, 4 I’ll give thim th’ franchise,’ he 
says. ‘Whin?’ says Joe Chamberlain. 4 In me 
will,’ says Kruger. 4 Whin I die,’ he says, 4 an’ I 
hope to live to be a hundherd if I keep on smokin’ 
befure breakfast,’ he says, 4 I’ll bequeath to me 
frinds, th’ English, or such iv thim as was here be- 
fure I come, th’ inalienable an’ sacred right to de- 
mand fr’m me succissor th’ privilege iv ilictin’ an 
aldherman,’ he says. 4 But,’ he says, 4 in th’ mane- 
time,’ he says, 4 we’ll lave things the way they are,’ 
he says. 4 I’m old,’ he say, 4 an’ not good-lookin’,’ 
he says, c an’ me clothes dont fit an’ they may be 
marks iv food on me vest,’ he says, 4 but I’m not 
more thin half crazy an’ annytime ye find me givin’ 
annywan a chanst to vote me into a job dhrivin’ a 
mule an’ put in an English prisidint iv this ray- 
public,’ he says, 4 ye may conclude that ye’er Uncle 
Paul needs a guarjeen ! ’ he says. 

44 4 Far be it fr’m me to suggist anny but peace- 
ful measures,’ says Sir Alfred Milner, that’s th’ lad 
they have down in Africa, th’ Injun agent, 4 f’r th’ 

[38] 


THE TRANS VA A L 


English an’ Dutch shud wurruk together like 
brothers f’r th’ removal iv th’ naygur popylation,’ 
he says, ‘ but,’ he says, 4 as a brother I politely sug- 
gest to ye that if ye don’t give us what we want 
we’ll hand ye a fraternal punch ! ’ he says. 4 F’r,’ 
he says,’ 4 we have put our hand to th’ plough,’ he 
says, 4 an’ we cannot turn back,’ he says. 

44 4 What Sir Alfred Milner says is thrue,’ says 
Lord Lelborne, an’ what th’ divvle he has to do 
about it I dinnaw. 4 Th’ situation is such,’ he says, 
4 as to be intol’rable to a silf-rayspictin’ English- 
man,’ he says. 4 What a crime,’ he says, 4 that th’ 
men who ar-re takin’ most iv th’ money out iv th’ 
counthry shud not be allowed to stick in anny iv 
th’ votes,’ he says. 4 We have, as Shakespeare 
says, put our hand to th’ plough,’ he says, 4 an’ we 
cannot turn back,’ he says. ‘ I agree corjally with 
th’ noble lord on th’ r-red lounge abaft me,’ says 
Lord Salisbury. 4 With the echoes of me own 
noble sintimints on th’ peace proclamation iv me 
good frind, th’ Czar iv Rooshia, still ringin’ in me 
ears,’ he says, 4 it wud ill become me to speak iv 
foorce,’ he says. 4 1 wud on’y say that if th’ Trans- 
vaal raypublic wud rather have a Dum-dum bullet 
in its tum-tum thin grant to Englishmen th’ r-right 
to run th’ govermint, thin th’ Transvaal rapublic’ll 

[39] 


THE TRANSVAAL 


have both ! ’ he says. 1 1 will add/ he says, ‘ that 
we have put our hand to th’ plough an’ we will not 
turn back,’ he says. 

“ Well, sir, ’twas up to Kruger an’ he knocked 
th’ ashes out iv his pipe on his vest an’ says he, 
‘ Gintlemen,’ he says, 6 1 wud like to do me best to 
accomydate ye,’ he says. 6 Nawthin’ short iv a se- 
vere attack iv sickness wud plaze me so much as 
to see long lines iv Englishmen marchin’ up to th’ 
polls an’ depositin’ their ballots again’ me f ’ r pris- 
idint,’ he says. 4 But,’ he says,’ ‘ I’m an old man ! ’ 
he says. 6 1 was dieted young an’ I niver done 
annything since,’ he says. 4 1 wudden’t know what 
to do without it,’ he says. 4 What ye propose is to 
make an ex-prisidint iv me. D’ye think I cud 
stand that % D’ye think at my age I wud be con- 
tint to dash fr’m wan justice coort to another plead- 
in’ f’r habyas-corpus writs or test me principles iv 
personal expansion in a Noo Jarsey village ? ’ he 
says. 4 I’d rather be a dead prisidint thin a live 
ex-prisidint. If I have anny pollytical ambition I’d 
rather be a Grant or a Garfield thin a Cleveland or 
a Harrison,’ he says. 4 1 may’ve read it in th’ Bible, 
though I think I saw it in a scand’lous book me 
frind Rhodes left in his bedroom las’ time he called 
on me, that ye shud niver discard an ace to dhraw 

[40] 


THE TRANS VA A L 


to a flush/ he says. 4 1 deplore th’ language but th’ 
sintimint is sound/ he says. 4 An’ I believe ye’er 
intintions to presarve peace ar-re honest, but I don’t 
like to see ye pullin’ off ye’er coat an’ here goes f’r 
throuble while ye have ye’er arms in th’ sleeves/ he 
says. 4 F’r/ he says, 4 ye have put ye’er hand in th’ 
reaper an’ it cannot turn back/ he says. 

44 An’ there they go, Hinnissy. I’m not again 
England in this thing, Hinnissy, an’ I’m not again 
th’ Boers. Like Mack I’m divided on a matther iv 
principle between a desire to cemint th’ ’lieance an’ 
an afliction f’r th’ Dutch vote. But if Kruger had 
spint his life in a rale raypublic where they burn 
gas he cud’ve settled th’ business without losin’ 
sleep. If I was Kruger there’d ’ve been no war.” 

44 What wud ye have done ? ” Mr. Hennessy 
asked. 

44 I’d give thim th’ votes,” said Mr. Dooley. 
44 But,” he added significantly, 44 I’d do th’ countin’.” 


[4i] 



WAR- AND WAR- 
MAKE R-S 


TELL ye, Hinnissy,” said Mr. Dooley, 
“Ye can’t do th’ English-speakin’ 
people. Oursilves an’ th’ hands acrost 
th’ sea ar-re rapidly teachin’ th’ be- 
nighted Lutheryan an’ other haythin that as a 
race we’re on vincible an’ oncatcheable. Th’ Anglo- 
Saxon race meetin’s now going on in th’ Ph’lip- 
peens an’ South Africa ought to convince annywan 
that give us a fair start an’ we can bate th’ 
wurruld to a tillygraft office. 

“ Th’ war our cousins be Sir Thomas Lipton is 
prosecutin’, as Hogan says, again’ th’ foul but ac- 
crate Boers is doin’ more thin that. It’s givin’ us 
a common war lithrachoor. I wudden’t believe at 
first whin I r-read th’ dispatches in th* pa-apers that 
me frind Gin’ral Otis wasn’t in South Africa. It 



WAR. AND WAR MAKERS 


was on’y whin I see another chapter iv his justly 
cillybrated seeryal story, intitled 4 Th’ Capture iv 
Porac ’ that I knew he had an imitator in th’ mother 
counthry. An’ be hivins, I like th’ English la-ad’s 
style almost as well as our own gr-reat artist’s. 
Mebbe ’tis, as th’ pa-apers say, that Otis has writ 
himsilf out. Annyhow th’ las’ chapter isn’t thrillin’. 
He says : 4 To-day th’ ar-rmy undher my command 

fell upon th’ inimy with gr-reat slaughter an’ 
seized th’ important town of Porac which I have 
mintioned befure, but,’ he says, 4 we ar-re fortu- 
nately now safe in Manila.’ Ye see he doesn’t keep 
up th’ intherest to th’ end. Th’ English pote does 
betther.” 

“ 4 Las’ night at eight o’clock,’ he says, 4 we found 
our slendher but inthrepid ar-rmy surrounded be 
wan hundhred thousan Boers,’ he says. 4 We 
attackted thim with gr-reat fury,’ he says, 4 pursuin’ 
thim up th’ almost inaccessible mountain side an’ 
capturin’ eight guns which we didn’t want so we 
give thim back to thim with siveral iv our own,’ he 
says. 4 Th’ Irish rig’mints,’ he says , 4 th’ Kerry Rifles, 
th’ Land Leaguers ’ Own, an’ th’ Dublin Pets, com- 
manded be th’ Pop’lar Irish sojer Gin’ral Sir Pon- 
sonby Tompkins wint into battle singin’ their well- 
known naytional anthem : 44 Mrs. Innery Awkins 
[ 44 ] 


WAR. AND WAR MAKERS 


is a fust-class name ! ” Th’ Boers retreated, 5 he says, 
‘pursued be th’ Davitt Terrors who cut their way 
through th’ fugitives with awful slaughter,’ he says. 
‘ They have now,’ he says, ‘ pinethrated as far us 
Pretoria,’ he says, ‘th’ officers arrivin’ in first-class 
carredges an’ th’ men in thrucks,’ he says, ‘ an’ ar-re 
camped in th’ bettin’ shed where they ar-re afforded 
ivry attintion be th’ vanquished inimy,’ he says. 
‘As f’r us,’ he says, ‘we decided afther th’ victhry to 
light out f’r Ladysmith ! ’ he says, ‘ Th’ inimy had 
similar intintions,’ he says, ‘but their skill has been 
vastly overrated,’ he says. ‘ W e bate thim,’ he says 
‘we bate thim be thirty miles,’ he says. That’s 
where we’re sthrong, Hinnissy. We may get 
licked on th’ battle field, we may be climbin’ threes 
in th’ Ph’lippeens with arrows stickin’ in us like 
quills, as Hogan says, into th’ fretful porcupine or 
we may be doin’ a mile in five minyits flat down th’ 
pike that leads to Cape Town pursued be th’ less 
fleet but more ignorant Boers peltin’ us with guns 
full iv goold an’ bibles, but in th’ pages iv histhry 
that our childhren read we niver turned back on 
e’er an inimy. We make our own gloryous pages 
on th’ battlefield, in th’ camp an’ in th’ cab’net 
meetin’.” 

“Well, ’t is all r-right f’r ye to be jokin’,” said 

[45] 


WAR AND WAR MAKERS 


Mr. Hennessy, “ but there’s manny a brave fellow 
down there that it’s no joke to.” 

“ Thrue f’r ye,” said Mr. Dooley,” an’ that’s why 
I wisht it cud be fixed up so’s th’ men that starts th’ 
wars could do th’ fightin’. Th’ throuble is that all 
th’ prelimin’ries is arranged be matchmakers an’ all 
they’se left f’r fighters is to do th’ murdherin’. A 
man’s got a good job at home an’ he wants to make 
it sthronger. How can he do it*? Be throwin’ out 
some one that’s got an akelly good job down th’ 
sthreet. Now he don’t go over as I wud an’ say, 
4 Here Schwartzmeister (or Kruger as th’ case may 
be) I don’t like ye’er appearance, ye made a mon- 
key iv me in argymint befure th’ neighborhood an’ 
if ye conti nyue in business ye’ll hurt me thrade, so 
here goes to move ye into th’ sthreet!’ Not that 
la-ad. He gets a crowd around him an’ says he : 
‘ Kruger (or Schwartzmeister as th’ case may be) is 
no good. To begin with he’s a Dutchman. If that 
ain’t enough he’s a cantin’, hymn singin’ murdhrous 
wretch that wuddent lave wan iv our counthrymen 
ate a square meal if he had his way. I’ll give ye all 
two dollars a week if ye’ll go over an’ desthroy him.’ 
An’ th’ other la-ad, what does he do *? He calls in 
th’ neighbors an’ says he : ‘ Dooley is sindin’ down 
a gang iv savages to murdher me. Do ye lave 

[46] 


WAR. AND WAR MAKERS 


ye’er wurruk an’ ye’er families an’ rally ar-round 
me an’ where ye see me plug hat wave do ye go in 
th’ other direction,’ he says, ‘an’ slay th’ brutal 
inimy,’ he says. An’ off goes th’ sojers an’ they 
meet a lot iv la-ads that looks like thimsilves an’ 
makes sounds that’s more or less human an’ ates 
out iv plates an’ they swap smokin’ tobacco an’ 
sings songs together an’ th’ next day they’re up 
early jabbing holes in each other with baynits. An’ 
whin its all over they’se me an’ Chamberlain at 
home victoryous an’ Kruger an’ Schwartzmeister 
at home akelly victoryous. An’ they make me 
prime minister or aldherman but whin I want a 
man to put in me coal I don’t take wan with a 
wooden leg. 

“ I’ll niver go down again to see sojers off to 
th’ war. But ye’ll see me at th’ depot with a brass 
band whin th’ men that causes wars starts f’r th’ 
scene iv carnage. Whin Congress goes forth to th’ 
sun-kissed an’ rain jooled isles iv th’ Passyfic no 
more heartier cheer will be beard thin th’ wan or 
two that rises fr’m th’ bosom iv Martin Dooley. 
Says I, give thim th’ chanst to make histhry an’ 
lave th’ young men come home an’ make car 
wheels. If Chamberlain likes war so much ’tis him 
that ought to be down there in South Africa peltin’ 

[47] 


WAR. AND WAR MAKERS 


over th’ road with ol’ Kruger chasin’ him with a 
hoe. Th’ man that likes fightin’ ought to be willin’ 
to turn in an’ spell his fellow-counthrymen himsilf. 
An’ I’d even go this far an’ say that if Mack wants 

to subjoo th’ dam Ph’lippeens ” 

“ Ye’re a thraitor,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“ I know it,” said Mr. Dooley, complacently. 

“ Ye’re an anti-expansionist.” 

“ If ye say that again,” cried Mr. Dooley, angrily, 
“ I’ll smash in ye’er head.” 


[48] 


UNDERESTIMATING 
THE ENEMY 

HAT d’ye think iv th’ war ” Mr. Hen- 
nessy asked. 

“ I think I want to go out an’ apolo- 
gize to Shafter,” said Mr. Dooley. 
“ I’m like ivrybody else, be hivins, I thought war 
was like shootin’ glass balls. I niver thought iv th’ 
glass balls thrainin’ a dinnymite gun on me. ’Tis a 
thrait iv us Anglo-Saxons that we look on an inimy 
as a target. If ye hit him ye get three good see- 
gars. We’re like people that dhreams iv fights. 
In me dhreams I niver lost wan fight. A man I 
niver saw befure comes up an’ says something mane 
to me, that I can’t raymimber, an’ I climb into him 
an’ ’tis all over in a minyit. He niver hits me, or if 
he does I don’t feel it. I put him on his back an’ 
bate him to death. An’ thin I help mesilf to his 

[49] 



UNDERESTIMATING 15he ENEMY 


watch an’ chain an’ me frinds come down an’ 
say, ‘ Martin, ye haven’t a scratch,’ an’ con-grathlate 
me, an’ I wandher ar-roun’ th’ sthreets with a chip 
on me shoulder till I look down an’ see that I 
haven’t a stitch on me but a short shirt. An’ thin I 
wake up. Th’ list iv knock-outs to me credit in 
dhreams wud make Fitzsimmons feel poor. But 
ne’er a wan iv thim was printed in th’ pa-apers. 

“’Tis so with me frinds, th’ hands acrost th’ sea. 
They wint to sleep an’ had a dhream. An’ says 
they: ‘We will sind down to South Africa thim 
gallant throops that have won so manny hard- 
fought reviews,’ they says, ‘captained,’ they says, 
‘ be th’ flower iv our aristocracy,’ they says. ‘ An’ 
whin th’ Boers come out ar-rmed with rollin’ pins 
an’ bibles,’ they says, ‘We’ll just go at thim,’ they 
says, ‘an’ walk through thim an’ that night we’ll 
have a cotillyon at Pretoria to which all frinds is 
invited,’ they says. An’ so they deposit their intel- 
lects in th’ bank at home, an’ th’ absent-minded 
beggars goes out in thransports iv pathreetism an’ 
pothry. An’ they’se a meetin’ iv th’ cabinet an’ ’tis 
decided that as th’ war will on’y las’ wan week ’twill 
be well f ’r to begin renamin’ th’ cities iv th’ Thrans- 
vaal afther pop’lar English statesmen — Joechamber- 
lainville an’ Rhodesdorp an’ Beitfontein. F’r they 

[50] 


UNDERESTIMATING 15he ENEMY 


have put their hands to th’ plough an’ th’ sponge is 
squeezed dhry, an’ th’ sands iv th’ glass have r-run 
out an’ th’ account is wiped clean. 

“ An’ what’s th’ Boer doin’ all this time ? 
What’s me frind th’ Boer doin’. Not sleepin’, Hin- 
nissy, mind ye. He hasn’t anny dhreams iv con- 
quest. But whin a man with long whiskers comes 
r-ridin’ up th’ r-road an’ says : 4 Jan Schmidt or Pat 
O’Toole or whativer his name is, ye’re wanted at 
th’ front,’ he goes home an’ takes a rifle fr’m th’ 
wall an’ kisses his wife an’ childher good-bye an’ puts 
a bible in th’ tails iv his coat an’ a stovepipe hat on 
his head an’ thramps away. An’ his wife says: 
‘Good-bye, Jan. Don’t be long gone an’ don’t get 
shooted.’ An’ he says: ‘Not while I’ve got a leg 
undher me an’ a rock in front iv me,’ he says. I 
tell ye, Hinnissy, ye can’t beat a man that fights f’r 
his home an’ counthry in a stovepipe hat. He 
might be timpted f’r to come out fr’m cover f’r his 
native land, but he knows if he goes home to his 
wife with his hat mussed she won’t like it, an’ so he 
sets behind a rock an’ plugs away. If th’ lid is 
knocked off he’s fatally wounded. 

“What’s th’ raysult, Hinnissy? Th’ British 
marches up with their bands playin’ an’ their flags 
flyin’. An’ th’ Boers squat behind a bouldher or 

[51] 


UNDERESTIMATING 'She ENEMY 


a three or set comfortable in th’ bed iv a river 
an’ bang away. Their on’y thradition is that it’s 
betther to be a live Boer thin a dead hero, which 
comes, perhaps, to th’ same thing. They haven’t 
been taught f’r hundherds iv years that ’tis a 
miracle f’r to be an officer an’ a disgrace to be a 
private sojer. They know that if they’re kilt they’ll 
have their names printed in th’ pa-apers as well as 
th’ Markess iv Doozleberry that’s had his eyeglass 
shot out. But they ain’t lookin’ f’r notoriety. All 
they want is to get home safe, with their counthry 
free, their honor protected an’ their hats in good 
ordher. An’ so they hammer away an’ th’ inimy 
keeps cornin’, an’ th’ varyous editions iv th’ London 
pa-apers printed in this counthry have standin’ a 
line iv type beginnin’, 4 1 regret to state.’ 

“ All this, Hinnissy, comes fr’m dhreamin’ 
dhreams. If th’ British had said, 4 This unclean an’ 
raypeecious people that we’re against is also very 
tough. Dirty though they be, they’ll fight. Foul 
though their nature is, they have ca’tridges in their 
belts. This not bein’ England an’ th’ inimy we 
have again us not bein’ our frinds, we will f’rget th* 
gloryous thraditions iv th’ English an’ Soudan ar-r- 
mies an’ instead iv r-rushin’ on thim sneak along 
yon kindly fence an’ hit thim on th’ back iv th’ 

[52] 


UNDERESTIMATING 15he ENEMY 


neck,’ — they’d be less, 4 1 r-regret-to-states ’ and more 
4 I’m plazed-to-reports.’ They wud so, an’ I’m a 
man that’s been through columns an’ columns iv 
war. Ye’ll find, Hinnissy, that ’tis on’y ar-rmies 
fights in th’ open. Nations fights behind threes 
an’ rocks. Ye can put that in ye’re little book. 
’Tis a sayin’ I made as I wint along.” 

44 We done th’ same way oursilves,” said Mr. 
Hennessy. 

44 We did that,” said Mr. Dooley. 44 We were in 
a dhream, too. Th’ on’y thing is th’ other fellow 
was in a thrance. We woke up first. An’ anny- 
how I’m goin’ to apologize to Shafter. He may 
not have anny medals f’r standin’ up in range iv th’ 
guns but, be hivins, he niver dhrove his buckboard 
into a river occypied be th’ formerly loathed Cas- 
tile.” 





THE WAR EXPERT 


R. DOOLEY was reading the war news, 
— not our war news but the war news 
we are interested in — when Mr. Hen- 
nessy interrupted him to ask 44 What’s 
a war expert ? ” 

44 A war expert,” said Mr. Dooley, 44 is a man ye 
niver heerd iv befure. If ye can think iv annywan 
whose face is onfamilyar to ye an’ ye don’t raymim- 
ber his name, an’ he’s got a job on a pa-aper ye 
didn’t know was published, he’s a war expert. ’Tis 
a har-rd office to fill. Whin a war begins th’ timp- 
tation is sthrong f ’r ivry man to grab hold iv a gun 
an go to th’ fr-ront. But th’ war expert has to sub- 
joo his cravin’ f’r blood. He says to himsilf ‘Lave 
others seek th’ luxuries iv life in camp,’ he says. 
4 F’r thim th’ boat races acrost th’ Tugela, th’ romp 
over the kopje, an’ th’ game iv laager, laager who’s 
got th’ laager ? ” he says. 4 1 will stand be me 



THE WAR. EXPERT 


counthry/ he says, 4 close/ he says. 4 If it falls/ he 
says, 4 it will fall on me/ he says. An’ he buys 
himsilf a map made be a fortune teller in a dhream, 
a box iv pencils an’ a field glass, an’ goes an’ looks 
f’r a job as a war expert. Says th’ editor iv th’ 
paaper: 4 1 don’t know ye. Ye must be a war 
expert/ he says. 4 1 am/ says th’ la-ad. 4 Was ye 
iver in a war ? ’ says th’ editor. 4 I’ve been in naw- 
thin’ else/ says th’ la-ad. 4 Durin’ th’ Spanish- 
American War, I held a good job as a dhramatic 
critic in Dedham, Matsachoosets/ he says. 4 Whin 
th’ bullets flew thickest in th’ Soodan I was spool- 
in’ editor iv th’ Christyan Advocate/ he says. 4 1 
passed through th’ Franco-Prooshan War an’ held 
me place, an’ whin th’ Turks an’ Rooshans was at 
each other’s throats, I used to lay out th’ campaign 
ivry day on a checker board/ he says. 4 War/ he 
says, has no turrors f’r me/ he says. 4 Ye’re th 
man f’r th’ money/ says th’ editor. An’ he gets th’ 
job. 

44 Thin th’ war breaks out in earnest. No matther 
how manny is kilt, annything that happens befure 
th’ war expert gets to wurruk is on’y what we 
might call a prelimin’ry skirmish. He sets down 
an’ bites th’ end iv his pencil an’ looks acrost th’ 
sthreet an’ watches a man paintin’ a sign. Whin 

[56] 


THE WAR. EXPERT 


th’ man gets through he goes to th’ window an’ 
waits to see whether th’ polisman that wint into th’ 
saloon is afther a dhrink or sarvin’ a warrant. If he 
comes r-right out ’tis a warrant. Thin he sets back 
in a chair an’ figures out that th’ pitchers on th’ 
wall paaper ar-re all alike ivry third row. Whin 
his mind is thurly tuned up be these inthricate 



problems, he dashes to his desk an’ writes what you 
an’ I read th’ nex’ day in th’ paapers. 

“Clarence Pontoon, th’ military expert iv th’ 
London Mornin’ Dhram, reviewin’ Gin’ral Ruller’s 
position on th’ Tugela, says: 4 It is manifest fr’m th’ 
dispatches tellin’ that Gin’ral Buller has crost th’ 
Tugela River that Gin’ral Buller has crost th’ 

[57] 


THE WAR. EXPERT 


Tugela River. This we r-read in spite iv th’ cin- 
sor. Th’ question is which side he has crost to. 
On Friday he was on th’ north side in th’ mornin’ 
an’ on th’ south side at night, an’ in th’ river at 
noon. We heerd nawthin’ Sathurdah mornin’. 
Th’ presumption is that they was nawthin’ to hear. 
Therefore it is aisy to imagine Gin’ral Buller, findin’ 
his position on th’ north side ontenable an’ his 
position on th’ south side onbearable, is thrans- 
portin’ his troops up th’ river on rafts an’ is now 
engagin’ th’ inimy between Spitzozone an’ Rotten- 
fontein, two imminsely sthrong points. All this 
dimonsthrates th’ footility an’ foolishness iv attimp- 
tin’ to carry a frontal position agains’ large, well-fed 
Dutchmen with mud in th’ fr-ront iv thim. 

‘“I cal’clate that it wud require thirty millyon 
thurly dauntless Britions to ixicute such a manoo- 
ver, tin Boers ar-rmed with pop bottles bein’ now 
considhered th’ akel iv a brigade. What I wud 
do if I was Buller, an’ I thank Hivin I’m not, wud 
be move me ar-rmy in half-an-hour over th’ high 
but aisily accessible mountains to th’ right iv 
Crownjoy’s forces, an’ takin’ off me shoes so he cud- 
den’t hear thim squeak, creep up behind th’ Dutch 
an’ lam their heads off. Afther this sthroke ’twud 
be aisy f’r to get th’ foorces iv Fr-rinch, Gatacre, 

[58] 


THE WAR. EXPERT 


Methoon, an’ Winston Churchill together some 
afthernoon, invite th’ inimy to a band concert, sur- 
round an’ massacree thim. This adroit move cud 
be ixicuted if Roberts wud on’y make use iv th’ 
ixicillint bus sarvice between Hokesmith an’ Mike- 
smith. It is exthraordinary that th’ gin’ral on th’ 
groun’ has not seen th’ possibilities so apparent at a 
distance.’ 

“That’s wan kind iv war expert, Hinnissy. 
Another kind is th’ wan that gives it good to th’ 
gover’mint. Says Willum McGlue, war expert 
iv th’ London Mornin’ Growl, who’s supposed to 
be cheek be jowl with Lord Wolseley. ‘England’s 
greatness is slippin’ away. Th’ failure iv th’ gov- 
er’mint to provide a well-equipped, thurly pathriotic 
ar-rmy iv Boers to carry on this war undher th’ 
leadership iv gallant Joobert is goin’ to be our 
roonation. We ar-re bethrayed be a lazy, effete, 
side-whiskered, golf-playin’ gover’mint that wud 
rather lose this fight thin win it because they ar-re 
tired iv holdin’ office. What can be said f ’r public 
men so lost to shame that they spell Kopje with a 
“ c ” an’ ar-re sindin’ Englishmen to th’ ends iv th’ 
wurruld to fight f ’r England ? Down with thim ! ’ 

“Well sir, ’tis a gr-reat thing f’r a counthry to 
have th’ likes iv thim ar-round to direct manoovers 

[59] 


THE WAR. EXPERT 


that’d be gatherin’ dust on th’ shelf if th’ gin’rals 
had their say, an’ to prove to th’ wurruld that th’ 
English ar-re not frivolous, excitable people like us 
an’ th’ Frinch, but can take a batin’ without losin’ 
their heads.” 

“ Sure,” said Mr. Hennessy, 64 tis not thim that 
does th’ fightin’. Th’ la-ads with th’ guns has that 
job.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Dooley, “they’se two kinds iv 
fightin’. Th’ experts wants th’ ar-rmy to get into 
Pretoria dead or alive, an’ th’ sojers wants to get in 
alive. I’m no military expert, Hinnissy. I’m too 
well known. But I have me own opinyon on th’ 
war. All this talk about th’ rapid fire gun an’ 
modhren methods iv warfare makes me wondher. 
They’se not so much diff’rence between war now 
an’ war whin I was a kid, as they let on. Th’ gun 
that shoots ye best fr’m a distance don’t shoot ye so 
well close to. A pile iv mud is a pile iv mud now 
just th’ same as it was whin Gin’ral Grant was 
pokin’ ar-round. If th’ British can get over th’ 
mud pile they win th’ fight. If they can’t they’re 
done. That’s all they’se to it. Mos’ men, strong- 
est backs, best eyes an’ th’ ownership iv th’ mud 
piles. That’s war, Hinnissy. Th’ British have th’ 
men. They’re shy iv backs, eyes an’ mud piles, an’ 
[60] 


THE WAR EXPERT 


they will be until they lam that sheep-herdin’ an’ 
gin’ralship ar-re different things, an’ fill up their 
ar-rmy with men that ar-re not fightin’ f’r money or 
glory, but because they want to get home to their 
wives alive.” 

“ Ye talk like an’ ol* book,” said Mr. Hennessy, 
in disgust. u Ye with ye-re maundhrin’ ar-re no 
betther thin thim expert la-ads.” 

“Well annyhow,” said Mr. Dooley thoughtfully, 
“th’ expert is sarvin’ a useful purpose. Th’ pa- 
apers says th’ rapid fire gun’ll make war in th’ 
future impossible. I don’t think that, but I know 
th’ expert will.” 


[ 6 .] 



MODERN EXPLOSIVES 


F iver I wanted to go to war,” said Mr. 
Dooley, “ an’ I niver did, th’ desire 
has passed fr’m me iv late. Ivry time 
I read iv th’ desthructive power iv 
modhern explosives col’ chills chase each other up 
an’ down me spine.” 

“ What’s this here stuff they calls lyddite? ” Mr. 
Hennessy asked. 

“ Well, ’tis th’ divvle’s own med’cine,” said Mr. 
Dooley. “ Compared with lyddite joynt powdher 
is Mrs. Winslow’s soothin’ surup, an’ ye cud lave 
th’ childher play base-ball with a can iv dinnymite. 
’Tis as sthrong as Gin’ral Crownjoy’s camp th’ day iv 
th’ surrinder an’ almost as sthrong as th’ pollytics iv 
Montana. Th’ men that handles it is cased in six 
inch armor an’ played on be a hose iv ice wather. 
Th’ gun that shoots it is always blown up be th’ 
discharge. Whin this deadly missile flies through 



MODERN EXPLOSIVES 


th’ air, th’ threes ar-re withered an’ th’ little bur-rds 
falls dead fr’m th’ sky, fishes is kilt in th’ rivers, an’ 
th’ tillyphone wires won’t wurruk. Th’ keen eyed 
British gunners an’ corryspondints watches it in its 
hellish course an’ tur-rn their faces as it falls into th’ 
Boer trench. An’ oh ! th’ sickly green fumes it 
gives off, jus’ like pizen f’r potato bugs! There is 
a thremenjous explosion. Th’ earth is thrown up 
f’r miles. Horses, men an’ gun carredges ar-re 
landed in th’ British camp whole. Th’ sun is ob- 
scured be Boer whiskers turned green. Th’ heart 
iv th’ corryspondint is made sick be th’ sight, an’ 
be th’ thought iv th’ fearful carnage wrought be 
this dhread desthroyer in th’ ranks iv th’ brave but 
misguided Dutchmen. Th’ nex’ day deserters fr’m 
th’ Boer ranks reports that they have fled fr’m th’ 
camp, needin’ a dhrink an’ onable to stand th’ 
scenes iv horror. They announce that th’ whole 
Boer ar-rmy is as green as wall paper, an’ th’ Irish 
brigade has sthruck because ye can’t tell their flag 
fr’m th’ flag iv th’ r-rest iv th’ Dutch. Th’ Fr-rinch 
gin’ral in command iv th’ Swedish corps lost his 
complexion an’ has been sint to th’ hospital, an’ 
Mrs. Gin’ral Crownjoy’s washin’ that was hangin’ on 
th’ line whin th’ bombardmint comminced is a total 
wreck which no amount iv bluin’ will save. Th’ 

[64] 


MODERN EXPLOSIVES 


deserters also report that manny iv th’ Boers ar-re 
outspannin’, trekking loogerin’, kopjein’ an’ veldtin’ 
home to be dyed, f’r ’tis not known whether lyddite 
is a fast color or will come out in th’ wash. 

“ In spite iv their heavy losses th’ Boers kept up 
a fierce fire. They had no lyddite, but with their 
other divvlish modhern explosives they wrought 
thremenjous damage. F’r some hours shells burst 
with turr’ble precision in th’ British camp. Wan 
man who was good at figures counted as manny as 
forty-two thousan’ eight hundhred an’ sivin burstin’ 
within a radyus iv wan fut. Ye can imagine th’ 
hor-rible carnage. Colonel C. G. F. K. L. M. N. 
O. P. Hetherington-Casey-Higgins lost his eye-glass 
tin times, th’ las’ time almost swallowin’ it, while 
ye’er faithful corryspondint was rindered deaf be 
th’ explosions. Another Irish rig’mint. has disap- 
peared, th’ Twelve Thousandth an’ Eighth, Dub- 
lin Fusiliers. Brave fellows, ’tis suspicted they 
mistook th’ explosion of lyddite f’r a Pathrick’s 
Day procession an’ wint acrost to take a look at it. 

“Murdher, but ’tis dhreadful to r-read about. 
We have to change all our conciptions iv warfare. 
Wanst th’ field was r-red, now ’tis a br-right lyddite 
green. Wanst a man wint out an’ died f’r his 
counthry, now they sind him out an’ lyddite dyes 

[65] 


MODERN EXPLOSIVES 


him. What do I mane? ’Tis a joke I made. I’ll 
not explane it to ye. Ye wudden’t undherstand it. 
’Tis f’r th’ eddycated classes. 

“ How they’re iver goin’ to get men to fight 
afther this I cudden’t tell ye. ’Twas bad enough 
in th’ ol’ days whin all that happened to a sojer was 
bein’ pinithrated be a large r-round gob iv solder or 
stuck up on th’ end iv a baynit be a careless inimy. 
But now-a-days, they have th’ bullet that whin it 
enthers ye tur-rns ar-round like th’ screw iv a pro- 
peller, an’ another wan that ye might say goes in be 
a key-hole an’ comes out through a window, an’ 
another that has a time fuse in it an’ it doesn’t come 
out at all but stays in ye, an’ mebbe twinty years 
afther, whin ye’ve f’rgot all about it an’ ar-re settin’ 
at home with ye’er fam’ly, bang! away it goes an’ 
ye with it, carryin’ off half iv th’ roof. Thin they 
have guns as long as fr’m here to th’ rollin’ mills 
that fires shells as big as a thrunk. Th’ shells are 
loaded like a docthor’s bag an’ have all kinds iv 
things in thim that won’t do a bit iv good to man 
or beast. If a sojer has a weak back there’s some- 
thing in th’ shell that removes a weak back ; if his 
head throubles him, he can lose it ; if th’ odher iv 
vilets is distasteful to him th’ shell smothers him in 
vilet powdher. They have guns that anny boy or 
[ 66 ] 


MODERN EXPLOSIVES 


girl who knows th’ typewriter can wurruk, an’ they 
have other guns on th’ music box plan, that ye 
wind up an’ go away an’ lave, an’ they annoy anny 
wan that comes along. They have guns that 
bounces up out iv a hole in th’ groun’, fires a mill- 
yon shells a minyit an’ dhrops back f ’r another load. 
They have guns that fire dinnymite an’ guns that 
fire th’ hateful, sickly green lyddite that makes th’ 
inimy look like fiat money, an’ guns that fire canned 
beef f’r th’ inimy an’ distimper powdher for th’ 
inimy’s horses. An’ they have some guns that 
shoot straight.” 

“Well, thin,” Mr. Hennessy grumbled, “its a 
wondher to me that with all thim things they ain’t 
more people kilt. Sure, Gin’ral Grant lost more 
men in wan day thin th’ British have lost in four 
months, an’ all he had to keep tab on was ol’ fash- 
ioned bullets an’ big, bouncin’ iron balls.” 

“ Thrue,” said Mr. Dooley. “ I don’t know th’ 
reason, but it mus’ be that th’ betther gun a man has 
th’ more he thrusts th’ gun an’ th’ less he thrusts 
himsilf. He stays away an’ shoots. He says to 
himsilf, he says : 4 They’se nawthin’ f’r me to do,’ 

he says, 4 but load up me little lyddite cannon with 
th’ green goods,’ he says, 4 an’ set here at the or- 
gan,’ he says, fc pull out th’ stops an’ paint th’ town 

[6 7 ] 


MODERN EXPLOSIVES 


iv Pretoria green,’ he says. 4 But,’ he says, 4 on 
sicond thought, suppose th’ inimy shud hand it 
back to me,’ he says. 4 ’Twud be oncomfortable,’ 
he says. 4 So,’ he says, 4 I’ll jus’ move me music 
back a mile,’ he says, 4 an’ peg away, an’ th’ longest 
gun takes th’ persimmons,’ he says. ’Tis this way : 
If ye an’ I fall out an’ take rifles to each other, ’tis 
tin to wan nayether iv us gets dost enough to hit. 
If we take pistols th’ odds is rayjooced. If we take 
swords I may get a hack at ye, but if we take a 
half-nelson lock ’tis even money I have ye’er back 
broke befure th’ polis comes. 

44 1 can see in me mind th’ day whin explosives’ll 
be so explosive an’ guns’ll shoot so far that on’y th’ 
folks that stay at home’ll be kilt, an’ life insurance 
agents’ll be advisin’ people to go into th’ ar-rmy. I 
can so. ’Tis thrue what Hogan says about it.” 

44 What’s that ? ” Mr. Hennessy asked. 

44 Th’ nation,” said Mr. Dooley, 44 that fights with 
a couplin’ pin extinds its bordhers at th’ cost iv th’ 
nation that fights with a clothes pole.” 


[ 68 ] 


THE BOER. MISSION 


ELL, sir,” said Mr. Dooley, 44 ’tis a fine 
rayciption th’ Boer dillygates is havin’ 
in this counthry.” 

“ They’ll be out here nex’ week,” said 

Mr. Hennessy. 

44 They will that,” Mr. Dooley replied, “ an’ we’ll 
show thim that our inthrest in small raypublics 
fightin’ f ’r their liberty ain’t disappeared since we 
become an impeeryal nation. No, sir. We have 
as much inthrest as iver, but we have more inthrests 
elsewhere. 

64 Oom Paul, he says to th’ la-ads : 4 Go,’ he says, 

4 to me good an’ great frind, Mack th’ Wanst, an’ 
lay th’ case befure him,’ he says. ‘Tell him,’ he 
says, 4 that th’ situation is just th’ same as it was 
durin’ Wash’nton’s time,’ he says, 4 on’y Wash’nton 
won, an’ we’re rapidly losin’ kopjes till we soon 
won’t have wan to sthrike a match on,’ he says. An’ 

[69] 



THE BOER. MISSION 


off goes th’ good men. Whin they started the 
Boers was doin’ pretty well, Hinnissy. They were 
fightin’ Englishmen, an’ that’s a lawn tinnis to a rale 
fightin’ man. But afther awhile the murdherin’ 
English gover’mint put in a few recreent but gal- 
lant la-ads fr’m th’ oP dart — we ought to be proud 
iv thim, curse thim — Pat O’Roberts, an’ Mike 
McKitchener, an’ Terrence O’Fr-rinch — an’ they 
give th’ view-halloo an’ wint through th’ Dutch like 
a party cornin’ home fr’m a fifteenth iv August pic- 
nic might go through a singe rbund. So be th’ time 
th’ dillygates got to Europe it was : 4 James, if 

thim br-rave but misguided Dutch appears, squirt 
th’ garden hose on thim. I’ll see th’ British em- 
bassadure this afthernoon.’ Ye see, Hinnissy, ’twas 
ol’ Kruger’s play to keep on winnin’ battles till th’ 
dillygates had their say. Th’ amount iv sympathy 
that goes out f ’r a sthrugglin’ people is reg’lated, 
Hinnissy, be th’ amount iv sthrugglin’ th’ people can 
do. Th’ wurruld, me la-ad, is with th’ undher dog 
on’y as long as he has a good hold an’ a chanst to 
tur-rn over. 

“Well, sir, whin th’ dillygates see they cudden’t 
do business in Europe, says they to thimsilves: 
‘We’ll pike acrost th’ ragin’ sea,’ they says, ‘an in 
th' home iv Wash’nton, Lincoln, an’ Willum J. 

[ 7 ° 1 







THE BOER MISSION 


Bryan, ye bet we’ll have a hearin’,’ an’ they got 
wan. Ivrybody’s listenin’ to thim. But no wan re- 
plies. If they’d come here three months ago, befure 
Crownjoy was suffocated out iv his hole in th’ 
groun’, they’d be smokin’ their pipes in rockin’ 
chairs on th’ veranda iv th’ white house an’ passin’ 
th’ bucket between thim an’ Mack. But ’tis 
diff’rent now. ’Tis diff’rent now. Says Willum 
J. Bryan : 6 1 can’t see thim mesilf, f ’r it may not 

be long befure I’ll have to dale with these inthricate 
problems, I hope an’ pray, but Congressman Squirt- 
wather, do ye disguise ye’ersilf as a private citizen 
an’ go down to th’ hotel an’ tell these la-ads that I’m 
with thim quietly if public opinyon justifies it an’ 
Mack takes th’ other side. Tell thim I frequently 
say to mesilf that they’re all r-right, but I wudden’t 
want it to go further. Perhaps they cud be injooced 
to speak at a dimmycratic meetin’ unbeknown to 
me,’ he says. 

“ Sicrety Hay meets thim in a coal cellar, wear- 
in’ a mask. ‘ Gintlemen,’ says he, ‘ I can assure ye 
th’ prisidint an’ mesilf feels mos’ deeply f’r ye. I 
needn’t tell ye about mesilf,’ he says. 6 Haven’t I 
sint me own son into ye’er accursed but liberty-lovin’ 
counthry,’ he says. 4 As f’r Mack, I assure ye he’s 
hear-rtbroken over th’ tur-rn affairs have taken,’ he 

[ 7 2 ] 


THE BOER. MISSION 


says. ‘Early in th’ war he wrote to Lord Salis- 
berry, sayin’ he hoped ’twud not be conti nyued to 
iliction day, an’ Salisberry give him a gruff re- 
sponse. Tur-rned him down, though both ar-re 
Anglo-Saxons,’ he says. ‘ Las’ night his sobs fairly 
shook th’ white house as he thought iv ye an’ ye’er 
sthruggle. He wants to tell ye how much he thinks 
iv ye, an’ he’ll meet ye in th’ carredge house if ye’ll 
shave off ye’er whiskers an’ go as clam-peddlers. 
Ye’ll reco’nize him in a green livery. He’ll wear a 
pink carnation in his buttonhole. Give th’ names 
iv Dorsey an’ Flannagan, an’ if th’ English ambassa- 
dure goes by get down on ye’er han’s an’ knees an’ 
don’t make a sign till he’s out iv sight,’ he says. 
4 Th’ stout party in blue near by ’ll be Mark Hanna. 
He may be able to arrange a raypublican meetin’ 
f ’r ye to addhress,’ he says. 4 The gr-reat hear-rt 
iv th’ raypublican party throbs f’r ye. So does 
Mack’s,’ he says. 4 So does mine,’ he says. 

44 Well, th’ dillygates met Mack an’ they had a 
pleasant chat. 4 Will ye,’ says they, 4 inthervene an’ 
whistle off th’ dogs iv war ? ’ they says. 4 Whisper,’ 
says Mack, th’ tears flowin’ down his cheeks. 4 Iver 
since this war started me eyes have been fixed on 
th’ gallant or otherwise, nation or depindancy, 
fightin’ its brave battle f’r freedom or rebellin’ again’ 

[73] 


THE BOER. MISSION 


th’ sov’reign power, as the case may be , 5 he says. 
4 Unofficially, my sympathy has gone out to ye, an’ 
bur-rnin’ wurruds iv unofficial cheer has been com- 
municated unofficially be me to me official fam’ly, 
not, mind ye, as an official iv this magnificent an’ 
liberty-lovin’ raypublic, but as a private citizen,’ he 
says. ‘ I feel, as a private citizen, that so long,’ he 
says, ‘as the br-right star iv liberty shines resplin- 
dent over our common counthries, with th’ example 
iv Washin’ton in ye’er eyes, an’ th’ iliction cornin’ 
on, that ye must go forward an’ conker or die,’ he 
says. ‘An’,’ he says, ‘ Willum McKinley is not th’ 
man to put annything in ye’er way,’ he says. ‘Go 
back to me gr-reat an’ good frind an’ tell him 
that th’ hear-rt iv th’ raypublican party throbs f ’r 
him,’ he says. ‘ An’ Sicrety Hay’s,’ he says, ‘ an’ 
mine,’ he says, ‘unofficially,’ he says. ‘Me official 
hear-rt,’ he says, ‘ is not permitted be th’ constitoo- 
tion to throb durin’ wurrukin’ hours,’ he says. 

“An 5 so it goes. Ivrywhere th’ dillygates tur-rns 
they see th’ sign: ‘This is me busy day.’ An’ 
whin they get back home they can tell th’ people 
they found th’ United States exudin’ sympathy at 
ivry pore — ‘ marked private.’ ” 

“Don’t ye think th’ United States is enthusyastic 
f’r th’ Boers % ” asked the innocent Hennessy. 

[74] 


THE BOER. MISSION 


“ It was,” said Mr. Dooley. “ But in th’ las’ few 
weeks it’s had so manny things to think iv. Th’ 
enthusyasm iv this counthry, Hinnissy, always 
makes me think iv a bonfire on an ice-floe. It 
burns bright so long as ye feed it, an’ it looks good, 
but it don’t take hold, somehow, on th’ ice.” 


[75] 









THE CHINESE 
SITUATION 


ELL, sir,” said Mr. Hennessy, “ to think 
iv th’ audacity iv thim Chinymen ! It 
do bate all.” 

“It do that,” said Mr. Dooley. “ It 
bates th’ wurruld. An’ what’s it cornin’ to*? You 
an’ me looks at a Chinyman as though he wasn’t 
good f’r annything but washin’ shirts, an’ not very 
good at that. ’Tiswan iv th’ spoorts iv th’ youth 
iv our gr-reat cities to rowl an impty beer keg 
down th’ steps iv a Chinee laundhry, an’ if e’er a 
Chinyman come out to resint it they’d take him be 
th’ pigtail an’ do th’ joynt swing with him. But 
th’ Chinyman at home’s a difPrent la-ad. He’s with 
his frinds an’ they’re manny iv thim an’ he’s rowlin’ 
th’ beer kegs himsilf an’ Westhren Civilization is 
down in th’ laundhry wondhrin’ whin th’ police’ll 
come along. 



[77] 


THE CHINESE SITUATION 

“ Th’ Lord f’rgive f’r say in’ it, Hinnissy, but if I 
was a Chinyman, which I will fight anny man f’r 
sayin,’ an’ was livin’ at home, I’d tuck me shirt into 
me pants, put me braid up in a net, an’ go out an’ 
take a fall out iv th’ in-vader if it cost me me life. 
Here am I, Hop Lung Dooley, r-runnin’ me little 
liquor store an’ p’rhaps raisin’ a family in th’ town 
iv Koochoo. I don’t like foreigners there anny 
more thin I do here. Along comes a bald-headed 
man with chin whiskers from Baraboo, Wisconsin, 
an’ says he : ‘ Benighted an’ haythen Dooley,’ says 
he, 4 ye have no God,’ he says. 4 1 have,’ says I. 4 1 
have a lot iv thim,’ says I. 4 Ye ar-re an onculti- 
vated an’ foul crather,’ he says. 4 1 have come 
six thousan’ miles f’r to hist ye fr’m th’ mire iv ig- 
norance an’ irrellijon in which ye live to th’ lofty 
plane iv Baraboo,’ he says. An’ he sets down on 
an aisy chair, an’ his wife an’ her friends come in an’ 
they inthrojooce Mrs. Dooley to th’ modhren im- 
provements iv th’ corset an’ th’ hat with th’ blue 
bur-rd onto it, an’ put shame into her because she 
hasn’t let her feet grow, while th’ head mission’ry 
reads me a pome out iv th’ Northwesthren Christ - 
yan Advocate . 4 W ell,’ says I, 4 look here, me 

good fellow,’ I says. 4 Me an’ me people has occy- 
pied these here primises f’r manny years,’ I says, 

[78] 


THE CHINESE SITUATION 


‘an’ here we mean to stay,’ I says. ‘We’re doin’ 
th’ best we can in th’ matther iv gods,’ says I. ‘We 
have thim cast at a first-rate foundhry,’ I says, ‘ an’ 
we sandpa-aper thim ivry week,’ says I. ‘ As f’r 
knowin’ things,’ I says, ‘me people wrote pomes 
with a markin’ brush whin th’ likes iv ye was 
r-runnin’ ar-round wearin’ a short pelisse iv sheep- 
skins an’ batin’ each other to death with stone ham- 
mers,’ says I. An’ I’m f’r firin’ him out, but bein’ 
a quite man I lave him stay. 

“ Th’ nex’ day in comes a man with a suit iv 
clothes that looks like a tablecloth in a section 
house, an’ says he : ‘ Poor ignorant haythen,’ he 
says, ‘ what manner iv food d’ye ate *? ’ he says. 
‘Rice,’ says I, ‘an’ rats is me fav’rite dish,’ I says. 
‘ Deluded wretch,’ says he. ‘ I riprisint Armour 
an’ Company, an’ I’m here to make ye change 
ye’er dite,’ he says. ‘ Hinceforth ye’ll ate th’ canned 
roast beef iv merry ol’ stock yards or I’ll have a 
file iv sojers in to fill ye full iv ondygistible lead,’ 
he says. An’ afther him comes th’ man with Aunt 
Miranda’s Pan Cakes an’ Flaked Bran an’ Ye’ll- 
perish-if-ye-don’t-eat-a-biscuit an’ other riprisinta- 
tives iv Westhern Civilization, an’ I’m to be shot if 
I don’t take thim all. 

“ Thin a la-ad runs down with a chain an’ a small 

[ 79 ] 


THE CHINESE SITUATION 


glass on three sticks an’ a gang iv section men 
that answers to th’ name iv Casey, an’ pro-ceeds f ’ r 
to put down a railroad. 6 What’s this f ’r ? ’ says I. 
‘We ar-re th’ advance guard iv Westhren Civ- 
ilization,’ he says, ‘ an we’re goin’ to give ye a rail- 
road so ye can go swiftly to places that ye don’t 
want to see,’ he says. ‘ A counthry that has no 
railroads is beneath contimpt,’ he says. ‘ Casey,’ 
he says, ‘ sthretch th’ chain acrost yon graveyard,’ he 
says. ‘ I aim f’r to put th’ thrack just befure that 
large tombstone marked Riquiescat in Pace, James 
H. Chung-a-lung,’ he says. ‘ But,’ says I, ‘ye will 
disturb pah’s bones,’ says I, ‘ if ye go to layin’ ties,’ 
I says. ‘Ye’ll be mixin’ up me ol’ man with th’ 
Cassidy’s in th’ nex’ lot that,’ I says, ‘ he niver spoke 
to save in anger in his life,’ I says. ‘Ye’re an an- 
cestor worshiper, heathen,’ says the la-ad, an’ he 
goes on to tamp th’ mounds in th’ cimitry an bal- 
last th’ thrack with th’ remains iv th’ deceased. An’ 
afther he’s got through along comes a Fr-rinchman, 
an’ an Englishman, an’ a Rooshan, an’ a Dutchman, 
an’ says wan iv them : ‘ This is a comfortable look- 
in’ saloon,’ he says. ‘ I’ll take th’ bar, ye take th’ 
ice-box an’ th’ r-rest iv th’ fixtures.’ ‘ What f ’r *? ’ 
says I. ‘ I’ve paid th’ rent an’ th’ license,’ says I. 
‘Niver mind,’ says he. ‘We’re th’ riprisintatives 

[ 80 ] 


THE CHINESE SITUATION 


iv Westhren Civilization/ he says, 4 an’ ’tis th’ 
business iv Westhren Civilization to cut up th’ be- 
longings iv Easthren Civilization,’ he says. ‘Be 
off/ he says, ‘ or I’ll pull ye’er hair,’ he says. 
‘Well,’ says I, ‘this thing has gone far enough,’ 
I says. ‘ I’ve heerd me good ol’ cast-iron gods or 
josses abused,’ I says, ‘ an’ I’ve been packed full iv 
canned goods, an’ th’ Peking Lightnin’ Express is 
r-runnin’ sthraight through th’ lot where th’ bones iv 
me ancesthors lies,’ I says. “ I’ve shtud it all,’ I says, 
‘ but whin ye come here to bounce me off iv me 
own primises,’ I says, ‘ I’ll have to take th’ leg iv 
th’ chair to ye,’ I says. An’ we’re to th’ flure. 

“ That’s th’ way it stands in Chiny, Hinnissy, an’ 
it looks to me as though Westhren Civilization 
was in f’r a bump. I mind wanst whin a dhrunk 
prize fighter come up th’ r-road and wint to sleep 
on Slavin’s steps. Some iv th’ good sthrong la-ads 
happened along an’ they were near bein’ at blows over 
who shud have his watch an’ who shud take his 
hat. While they were debatin’ he woke up an’ be- 
gin cuttin’ loose with hands an’ feet, an’ whin he 
got through he made a collection iv th’ things they 
dhropped in escapin’ an’ marched ca’mly down th’ 
sthreet. Mebbe ’twill tur-rn out so in Chiny, Hin- 
nissy. I see be th’ pa-apers that they’se four hun- 
[81] 


THE CHINESE SITUATION 


dherd millyons iv thim boys an’ be hivins! ’twud- 
dent surprise me if whin they got through batin’ us 
at home, they might say to thimsilves: ‘ Well, here 
goes f’r a jaunt ar-roun’ the wurruld.’ Th’ time 
may come, Hinnissy, whin ye’ll be squirtin’ wather 
over Hop Lee’s shirt while a man named Chow 
Fung kicks down ye’er sign an’ heaves rocks 
through ye’er windy. The time may come, Hin- 
nissy. Who knows % ” 

“End ye’er blather,” said Mr. Hennessy. “They 
won’t be anny Chinymen left whin Imp’ror Willum 
gets through.” 

“ Mebbe not,” says Mr. Dooley. “ He’s a sthrong 
man. But th’ Chinymen have been on earth a long 
time, an’ I don’t see how we can push so manny iv 
thim off iv it. Annyhow, ’tis a good thing f’r us 
they ain’t Christyans an’ haven’t larned properly to 
sight a gun.” 


[82] 


MINISTER. W U 


ELL, sir, me little Chinee frind Woo 
must be havin’ th’ time iv his life in 
Wash’nton these warm days,” said 
Mr. Dooley. 

44 Who’s he ? ” asked Mr. Hennessy. 

“ He’s th’ Chinee ministher,” said Mr. Dooley, 
“ an’ his business is f ’r to supply fresh hand-laun- 
dhried misinformation to the sicrety iv state. Th’ 
sicrety iv state is settin’ in his office feelin’ blue be- 
cause he’s just heerd be a specyal corryspondint iv 
th’ London Daily Pail at Sydney, Austhreelya, who 
had it fr’m a slatewriter in Duluth that an ar-rmy iv 
four hundherd an’ eight thousan’ millyon an’ sivinty- 
five bloodthirsty Chinee, ar-rmed with flatirnes an’ 
cryin’, 4 Bung Loo ! ’ which means, Hinnissy, 4 Kill 
th’ foreign divvies, dhrive out th’ missionries, an’ set 
up in Chiny a gover’mint f’r the Chinee,’ is march- 
in’ on Vladivostook in Siberyia, not far fr’m Tinsin. 

[83] 



MINISTER WU 


A knock comes at th’ dure an’ Woo enthers. 
4 Well,’ says he, with a happy smile, 4 ’tis all right.’ 
4 What’s all right ? ’ says the sicrety iv state. 4 Ivry- 
thing,’ says Woo. 4 1 have just found a letter sewed 
in a shirt fr’m me frind Lie Much, th’ viceroy iv 
Bumbang. It is dated th’ fourth hour iv th’ third 
day iv th’ eighth or green-cheese moon,’ he says. 
4 What day is that ? ’ says the sicrety iv state. 4 It’s 
Choosdah, th’ fourth iv July ; Winsdah, th’ eighth iv 
October, an’ Thursdah, the sivinteenth iv March,’ he 
says. 4 Pathrick’s day,’ says th’ sicrety iv state. 4 Thrue 
f’r ye,’ says Woo. 4 What year?’ says Jawn Hay. 
4 The year iv th’ big wind,’ says Woo. ‘Good,’ 
says John Hay, ‘proceed with ye’er story.’ ‘Here’s 
th’ letther,’ says Woo. 4 1 know ’tis genooyine be- 
cause it is an ol’ dhress patthern used be th’ impress. 
It says: ‘Oscar Woo, care iv himsilf, anny where : 
Dear Woo, brother iv th’ moon, uncle iv th’ sun, 
an’ roommate iv th’ stars, dear sir: Yours iv th’ 
eighth day iv th’ property moon rayceived out iv 
th’ air yesterdah afthernoon or to-morrow, an’ was 
glad to note ye ar-re feelin’ well. Ivrything over 
here is th’ same ol’ pair iv boots. Nawthin’ doin’. 
Peking is as quiet as th’ gr-rave. Her majesty, th’ 
impress, is sufferin’ slightly fr’m death be poison, 
but is still able to do th’ cookin’ f’r the Rooshan 
[ 8 4 ] 



85 



MINISTER. WU 


ambassadure. Th’ impror was beheaded las’ week 
an’ feels so much betther f’r the op’ration that he 
expicts to be quarthered nex’ Sundah. He’s al- 
ways wanted to rayjooce his weight. Some iv th’ 
Boxers called on th’ foreigners at Tinsin las’ week 
an’ met a warrum rayciption. Th’ foreigners afther- 
ward paid a visit to thim through a hole in th’ wall, 
an’ a jolly day concluded with a foot race, at which 
our people are becomin’ expert. Some iv th’ boys 
expicts to come up to Peking nex’ week, an’ th’ 
people along th’ line iv th’ railroad are gettin’ ready 
f’r thim. This is really all the news I have, excipt 
that cherries ar-re ripe. Me pin is poor, me ink is 
dhry, me love f’r you can niver die. Give me re- 
gards to Sicrety Hay whin he wakes up. I remain, 
illusthrus cousin iv th’ risin’ dawn, thruly ye’ers, Li. 
P. S. — If ye need anny more information take a 
longer dhraw.’ 

“‘That,’ says Woo, ‘is wan way iv r-readin’ it. 
Read upside down it says that the impress has be- 
come a Swedenboorjan. I will r-read it standin’ on 
me head whin I get home where I can pin down me 
overskirt ; thin I’ll r-read it in a lookin’ glass ; thin 
I’ll saw it into sthrips an’ r-run it through a wringer 
an’ lave it stand in a tub iv bluein’, an’ whin its 
properly starched I’ll find out what it says. Fin’lly 
[ 86 ] 


MINISTER WU 

I’ll cut it into small pieces an’ cook with rice an’ 
lave it to rest in a cool place, an’ thin ’twill r-read 
even betther. I hope ye’re satisfied,’ he says. ‘ I 
am,’ says Jawn Hay. ‘I’ll tillygraft to Mark that 
ivry thing is all r-right,’ he says, 4 an’ that our relations 
with his majesty or her majesty or their Boxerships 
or th’ Down-with-th’-foreign-divvlers or whoiver’s 
runnin’ th’ shop over beyant are as they ought to be 
or worse or betther, as th’ case may be,’ he says. 
‘Good,’ says Woo, ‘ye’re a man afther me own 
heart,’ he says. ‘ I’ll sind ye a little book wrote be 
a frind iv mine in Peking,’ he says. ‘Tis called 
“ Heart to Heart Lies I Have Had,” he says. 
‘Ye’ll like it,’ he says. ‘In the manetime,’ he 
says, ‘ I must write a secret message to go out be 
to-night’s hot-air express to me corryspondint in 
Meriden, Connecticut, urgin’ him to sind more im- 
peeryal edicks iv a fav’rable nature,’ he says. ‘ I’ve 
on’y had twinty so far, an’ I’m gettin’ scrivener’s 
palsy,’ he says. ‘ But befure I go,’ he says, ‘ I bet 
ye eight millyon yens, or three dollars an’ eighty- 
four cints iv ye’er money, that ye can’t pick out th’ 
shell this here pea is undher,’ he says. An’ they 
set down to a game iv what is known at Peking 
as diplomacy, Hinnissy, but on Randolph sthreet 
viadock is called the double dirty.” 

[87] 


MINISTER WU 

“ I don’t believe wan wurrud iv what’s in th’ pa- 
apers about Chiny,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“Well,” said Mr. Dooley, “if ye believe anny- 
thing ye’ll believe ivry thing. ’Tis a grand contist 
that’s goin’ on between Westhren an’ Easthren civil- 
liezation. ’Tis a joke iv me own, Hinnissy, an’ ye’d 
undherstand it if ye knew spellin.’ Th’ Westhren 
civilization, Hinnissy — that’s us — is a pretty good 
liar, but he’s a kind iv rough-an’-tumble at it He 
goes in head down, an’ ivry lie he tells looks like 
all th’ others. Ye niver see an Englishman that 
had anny judgment in lyin’. Th’ corryspondint iv 
th’ Daily Pail is out iv his class. He’s carryin’ lies 
to Lieville. How in th’ wurruld can we compete 
with a counthry where ivry lab’rer’s cottage pro- 
jooces lies so delicate that th’ workmen iv th’ West 
can’t undherstand thim? We make our lies be 
machinery ; they tur-rn out theirs be hand. They 
imitate th’ best iv our canned lies to deceive people 
that likes that kind, but f ’r artists they have lies 
that appeals to a more refined taste. Sure I’d like 
to live among thim an’ find out th’ kind iv bouncers 
they tell each other. They must be gr-rand. I 
on’y know their export lies now — th’ surplus lies 
they can’t use at home. An’ th’ kind they sind out 
ar-re betther thin our best. Our lies is no more thin 
[ 88 ] 


■•Mfe 


MINISTER WU 


a conthradiction iv th’ thruth; their lies appeals to 
th’ since iv honesty iv anny civilized man.” 

“ They can’t hurt us with their lies,” said Mr. 
Hennessy of our Western civilization. 44 We have 
th’ guns an’ we’ll bate thim yet.” 

44 Yes,” said Mr. Dooley, 44 an’ ’twill be like a 
man who’s had his house desthroyed be a cyclone 
gettin’ up an’ kickin’ at th’ air.” 


[89] 










The FUTUR.E of CHINA 


E th’ time th’ Chinese gets through with 
this here job o’ theirs,” said Mr. Dooley, 
“ they’ll know a thing or two about good 
manners an’ Christyan idees.” 

“ They need thim,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“ They do so,” said Mr. Dooley. “ An’ they’ll 
get thim. By an’ by th’ allied foorces will proceed 
to Peking. It may not be in ye’er life time or in 
mine, or in th’ life time iv th’ ministhers, Hinnissy. 
They ar-re in no hurry. Th’ ministhers ar-re as com- 
fortable as they can be on a dite iv polo ponies an’ 
bamboo, an’ they have exercise enough dodgin’ can- 
non balls to have no fear iv indygisthion. They’se 
no need of haste. Th’ allied foorces must take no 
step forward while wan ar-rmed foe survives. It 
was rayported last week that th’ advance had begun, 
but on sindin’ out scouts ’twas discovered that th’ 
asphalt road to th’ capital was not r-ready an’ th’ 



THE FUTURE OF CHINA 


gallant sojer boys was afraid to risk their beecycles on 
a defictive pavement. Thin th’ parlor cars ordhered 
be th’ Rooshan admiral has not arrived an’ wan iv 
th’ Frinch gin’rals lost an omelette, or whativer ’tis 
they wear on their shouldhers, an’ he won’t budge till 
it can be replaced fr’m Pahrs. A sthrong corps iv 
miners an’ sappers has gone ahead f ’r to lo-cate good 
resthrants on th’ line iv march, but th’ weather is 
cloudy an’ th’ silk umbrellys haven’t arrived, an’ 
they’se supposed to be four hundhred millyon Chiny- 
men with pinwheels an’ Roman candles blockin’ th’ 
way, so th’ advance has been postponed indifinitely. 
Th’ American foorces is r-ready f’r to start im- 
mejately, but they ar-re not there yet. Th’ British 
gin’ral is waitin’ f’r th’ Victorya cross befure he does 
annything, an’ th’ Japanese an’ th’ Rooshan is dan- 
cin’ up an’ down sayin’ ‘ Afther you, me boy.’ 

“But afther awhile, whin th’ frost is on th’ pump- 
kin an’ th’ corn is in th’ shock, whin th’ roads has 
been repaired, an’ ivry gin’ral’s lookin’ his best, an’ 
in no danger iv a cold on th’ chist, they’ll prance 
away. An’ whin they get to th’ city iv Peking a 
fine cillybration is planned be th’ mission’ries. I 
see th’ programme in th’ pa-aper : First day, 10 a.m., 
prayers be th’ allied mission’ries; l p.m., massacree iv 
the impress an’ rile fam’ly; sicond day, 10 a.m., 

[92] 



“ I see be th’ pa-aper,” said Mr. Hennessy 




































































































































































































































































































































THE FUTURE OF CHINA 


scatthrin’ iv remains iv former kings ; 1 1 a.m., dis- 
ecration iv graves gin’rally ; 2 p.m., massacree iv all 
gin’rals an’ coort officials ; third day, 1 2 noon, burn- 
in’ iv Peking; foorth day, gran’ pop’lar massacree 
an’ division iv territ’ry, th’ cillybration to close with 
a rough-an’-tumble fight among th’ allies. 

“ ’Twill be a gr-reat occasion, Hinnissy, an’ be- 
dad I’d like to be there to see it. Ye can’t go too 
sthrong again’ th’ Chinee. Me frind th’ impror iv 
Germany put it right. 4 Brave boys,’ says he,’ ye 
ar-re goin’ out now,’ he says, 4 f’r to carry th’ light 
iv Christyanity,’ he says, 4 an’ th’ teachin’s iv th’ 
German Michael,’ he says, 4 to th’ benighted hay- 
then beyant,’ he says. 4 Me an’ Mike is watchin’ 
ye’ he says, 4 an’ we ixpict ye to do ye’er duty,’ he 
says. 4 Through you,’ he says, 4 1 propose to smash 
th’ vile Chinee with me mailed fist,’ he says. 4 This 
is no six-ounce glove fight, but demands a lunch- 
hook done up in eight-inch armor plate,’ he says. 
4 Whin ye get among th’ Chinee,’ he says, 4 raymim- 
ber that ye ar-re the van guard iv Christyanity,’ he 
says, 4 an’ stick ye’er baynet through ivry hated in- 
fidel ye see,’ he says. 4 Lave thim undherstand 
what our westhren civilization means,’ he says, 4 an’ 
prod thim good an’ hard,’ he says. 4 Open their 
heads with ye’er good German swords to Eu-ropyan 

[93] 


THE FUTURE OF CHINA 


culture an’ refinement,’ he says. ‘Spare no man 
that wears a pigtail,’ he says. 4 An,’ he says, 4 me 
an’ th’ German Michael will smile on ye as ye kick 
th’ linin’ out iv th’ dhragon an’ plant on th’ walls iv 
Peking th’ banner,’ he says, 4 iv th’ cross, an’,’ he 
says, 4 th’ double cross,’ he says. 4 An’ if be chance 
ye shud pick up a little land be th’ way, don’t lave 
e’er aFrinchman or Rooshan take it fr’m ye, or ye’ll 
feel me specyal delivery hand on th’ back iv ye’er 
neck in a way that’ll do ye no kind iv good. Hock 
German Michael,’ he says, 4 hock me gran’father, 
hoch th’ penny postage fist,’ he says, 4 hock mesilf,’ 
he says. An th’ German impror wint back to his 
bedroom f’r to wurruk on th’ book he’s goin’ to 
br-ring out nex’ year to take th’ place iv th’ bible. 

44 He’s th’ boy f’r me money. Whin th’ German 
throops takes their part in th’ desthruction iv Peking 
they’ll be none iv th’ allied foorces ’ll stick deeper 
or throw th’ backbone iv th’ impress’ ol’ father high- 
er thin th’ la-ads fr’m th’ home iv th’ sausage. I 
hope th’ cillybration ’ll occur on Chris’mas day. 
I’d like to hear th’ sojers singin’ 4 Gawd r-rest ye, 
merry Chinnymen ’ as they punchered thim with a 
baynit.” 

44 ’Twill be a good thing,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

44 It will that,” said Mr. Dooley. 

[ 94 ] 


THE FUTURE OF CHINA 


“’Twill civilize th’ Chinnymen,” said Mr. Hen- 
nessy. 

“ ’Twill civilize thim stiff,” said Mr. Dooley. 
“ An’ it may not be a bad thing f ’r th’ r-rest iv th’ 
wurruld. Perhaps contack with th’ Chinee may civ- 
lize th’ Germans.” 


[95] 








PLATFORM MAKING 


HAT sthrikes me as a gran’ platform,” 
said Mr. Hennessy. “Pm with it fr’m 
start to finish.” 

“ Sure ye are,” said Mr. Dooley, “ an’ 
so ye’d be if it begun: ‘We denounce Terence 
Hinnissy iv th’ Sixth Ward iv Chicago as a thraitor 
to his country, an inimy iv civilization, an’ a poor 
thing.’ Ye’d say: ‘While there are wan or two 
things that might be omitted, th’ platform as a 
whole is a statesmanlike docymint, an’ wan that ap- 
peals to th’ intelligince iv American manhood.’ 
That’s what ye’d say, an’ that’s what all th’ likes iv 
ye’d say. An’ whin iliction day comes ’round th’ 
on’y question ye’ll ast ye’ersilf is : ‘ Am I with 

Mack or am I with Billy Bryan ? ’ An accordin’ly 
ye’ll vote. 

“’Tis always th’ same way, an’ all platforms is 
alike. I mind wanst whin I was an alter-nate to th’ 



PLATFORM MAKING 


county con-vintion — ’twas whin I was a power in 
pollytics an’ th’ on’y man that cud do annything with 
th’ Bohemian vote — I was settin’ here wan night 
with a pen an’ a pot iv ink befure me, thryin’ to 
compose th’ platform f ’r th’ nex’ day, f ’r I was a 
lithry man in a way, d’ye mind, an’ I knew th’ 
la-ads’d want a few crimps put in th’ raypublicans 
in a ginteel style, an’ ’d be sure to call on me f’r to 
do it. Well, I’d got as far down as th’ tariff an’ 
was thryin’ f’r to express me opinyon without 
swearin’, whin who shud come in but Lafferty, 
that was sicrety iv McMahon, that was th’ Main 
Guy in thim days, but aftherward thrun down on 
account iv him mixin’ up between th’ Rorkes an’ 
th’ Dorseys. Th’ Main Guy Down Town said 
he wudden’t have no throuble in th’ ward, an’ he 
declared McMahon out. McMahon had too 
much money annyhow. If he’d kept on, dollar 
bills’d have been extinct outside iv his house. 
But he was a sthrong man in thim days an’ much 
liked. 

“ Anyhow, Lafferty, that was his sicrety, come in, 
an’ says he : ‘ What are ye doin’ there ? ’ says he. 

‘ Step soft,’ says I ; ‘ I am at wurruk,’ I says. ‘Ye 
shudden’t do lithry wurruk on an empty stomach,’ 
says he. ‘ I do nawthin’ on an empty stomach but 

[98] 


PLATFORM MAKING 


eat/ says I. ‘I’ve had me supper,’ I says. ‘Go 
’way/ says I, ‘till I finish th’ platform/ I says. 
‘What’s th’ platform?’ says he. ‘F’r th’ county 
con-vintion,’ says I. 

“ Well, sir, he set down on a chair, an’ I thought 
th’ man was goin’ to die right there on the premises 
with laughter. ‘ Whin ye get through with ye’er 
barkin’/ says I, ‘ I’ll throuble ye to tell me what ye 
may be doin’ it f’r/ I says. ‘ I see nawthin’ amusin’ 
here but ye’er prisince/ I says, ‘ an’ that’s not a div- 
vle iv a lot funnier than a wooden leg/ I says, f’r I 
was mad. Afther awhile he come to, an’ says he : 
‘Ye don’t raally think/ says he, ‘that ye’ll get a 
chanct to spring that platform/ he says. ‘ I do/ 
says I. ‘Why/ he says, ‘the platform has been 
adopted/ he says. ‘ Whin ? ’ says I. ‘ Befure ye 
were born/ says he. ‘ In th’ reign iv Bildad th’ 
first/ says he — he was a lamed man, was Lafferty, 
though a dhrinkin’ man. All sicreties iv politi- 
cians not in office is dhrinkin’ men, Hinnissy. ‘ Ive 
got th’ copy iv it here in me pocket/ he says. ‘ Th’ 
boss give it to me to bring it up to date/ he says. 
‘ They was no sthrike last year an’ we’ve got to put 
a sthrike plank in th’ platform or put th’ prisident 
iv th’ Lumber Shovers’ union on th’ county board, 
an’/ he says, ‘ they ain’t room/ he says. 

LofC. [ 99 ] 


PLATFORM MAKING 


“ 6 Why,’ says LafFerty, ‘ ye ought to know th’ 
histhry iv platforms/ he says. An’ he give it to 
me, an’ I’ll give it to ye. Years ago, Hinnissy, 
manny years ago, they was a race between th’ dim- 
mycrats an’ th’ raypublicans f’r to see which shud 
have a choice iv principles. Th’ dimmycrats lost. 
I dinnaw why. Mebbe they stopped to take a 
dhrink. Annyhow, they lost. Th’ raypublicans 
come up an’ they choose th’ 6 we commind ’ princi- 
ples, an’ they was nawthin’ left f’r the dimmycrats 
but th’ 6 we denounce an’ deplores.’ I dinnaw how 
it come about, but th’ dimmycrats didn’t like th’ 
way th’ thing shtud, an’ so they fixed it up between 
thim that whichiver won at th’ diction shud com- 
mind an’ congratulate, an’ thim that lost shud de- 
nounce an’ deplore. An’ so it’s been, on’y the dim- 
mycrats has had so little chanct f’r to do annything 
but denounce an’ deplore that they’ve almost lost 
th’ use iv th’ other wurruds. 

“Mack sets back in Wash’nton an’ writes a plat- 
form f’r th’ comity on risolutions to compose th’ 
week afther. He’s got a good job — forty-nine 
ninety-two, sixty-six a month — an’ ’tis up to him to 
feel good. ‘ I — I mean we,’ he says, ‘ congratulate 
th’ counthry on th’ matchless statesmanship, on- 
shrinkin’ courage, steady devotion to duty an’ prin- 
[ 10O] 


PLATFORM MAKING 


ciple iv that gallant an’ hon’rable leader, mesilf,’ he 
says to his sicrety. ‘Take that,’ he says, ‘an’ elab- 
orate it,’ he says. ‘Ye’ll find a ditchnry on th’ shelf 
near the dure,’ he says, ‘ if ye don’t think I’ve put 
what I give ye sthrong enough,’ he says. ‘ I 
always was,’ he says, ‘ too retirin’ f ’r me own good,’ 
he says. ‘ Spin out th’ r-rest,’ he says, ‘ to make 
about six thousan’ wmrruds,’ he says, ‘ but be sure 
don’t write annything too hot about th’ Boer war or 
th’ Ph’lippeens or Chiny, or th’ tariff, or th’ goold 
question, or our relations with England, or th’ civil 
sarvice,’ he says. ‘ Tis a foolish man,’ he says, ‘ that 
throws a hunk iv coal fr’m his own window at th’ 
dhriver iv a brick wagon,’ he says. 

“ But with Billy Bryan ’tis diff ’rent. He’s out in 
Lincoln, Neebrasky, far fr’m home, an’ he says to 
himsilf : ‘ Me throat is hoarse, an’ I’ll exercise me 

other fac’lties,’ he says. ‘ I’ll write a platform,’ he 
says. An’ he sets down to a typewriter, an’ de- 
nounces an’ deplores till th’ hired man blows th’ din- 
ner horn. Whin he can denounce an’ deplore no 
longer he views with alarm an’ declares with indig- 
nation. An’ he sinds it down to Kansas City, where 
th’ cot beds come fr’m.” 

“ Oh, ye’re always pitchin’ into some wan,” said 
Mr. Hennessy. “ I bet ye W ilium Jennings Bryan 
[ I® 1 ] 


PLATFORM MAKING 


niver see th’ platform befure it wint in. He’s too 
good a man.” 

“ He is all iv that,” said Mr. Dooley. 44 But ye 
bet he knows th’ rale platform f’r him is: 4 Look 
at th’ bad breaks Mack’s made,’ an’ Mack’s platform 
is: 4 Ye’d get worse if ye had Billy Bryan.’ An’ 
it depinds on whether most iv th’ voters ar-re tired 
out or on’y a little tired who’s ilicted. All excipt 
you, Hinnissy. Ye’ll vote f’r Bryan? ” 

44 1 will,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“Well,” said Mr. Dooley, 44 d’ye know, I sus- 
picted ye might.” 


[ 102 ] 


PRESIDENT’S 
MESS AGE 


ID ye r-read th’ prisidint’s message?” 
asked Mr. Dooley. 

“ I did not,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

44 Well, ye-re r-right,” said the philos- 
opher. 44 I didn’t mesilf. ’Tis manny years since 
I give up me devotion to that form iv fiction. I 
don’t think anny wan r-reads a message but th’ 
clerk iv th’ house iv riprisintatives, an’ he has to 
to hold his job. But I cud tell ye how ’tis written. 
Th’ prisidint summons th’ cab’net together an’ they 
set ar-round a long table smokin’ seegars excipt th’ 
sicrety iv th’ navy, an’ he smokes a cigareet. An’ 
th’ prisidint he says : 4 La-ads,’ he says, 4 ’tis up 

to me f ’r to sind a few wurruds,’ he says, 4 iv good 
cheer,’ he says, 4 to thim rilitives iv th’ civil service 
on th’ other side iv town,’ he says. 4 I’d a great 

[ !° 3 ] 



PRESIDENT'S MESSAGE 


deal rather set up in th’ gall’ry an’ hear me frind 
Grosvenor tell thim,’ he says, 4 that I’m no poly- 
gamist like that there David Harem feller that’s 
thryin’ to break into congress,’ he says. 4 But ivry 
other prisidint has done it,’ he says, 4 An’ I suppose 
I’ve got to,’ he says. 4 What shall I say ? ’ he says, 
an’ he sets there writin’ 4 Ye’ers thruly, Willum 
McKinley,’ an’ makin’ pitchers iv a house in Can- 
ton, Ohio, while th’ cab’net thinks. 

44 Fin’lly th’ sicrety iv state, he says, 4 Ye might 
start it off, if ye want to make it a pop’lar docymint 
an’ wan that’ll be raymimbered,’ he says, 4 whin ye 
ar-re forgotten,’ he says, 4 be mintioning what has 
been done be th’ state department,’ he says. 
4 They’se a dhray at th’ dure with th’ facts,’ he says, 
4 if ye’ve f ’rgotten thim,’ he says. 4 Thin,’ says th’ 
sicrety iv the Threeasury, 4 ye might glide aisily 
into a few remarks about th’ excellent condition 
iv th’ public fi-nances,’ he says. 4 Something like 
this : 44 Thanks to th’ tireless activity iv th’ sicrety 

iv th’ threeasury th’ efforts iv those inimies iv 
pop’lar governmint, th’ Wall sthreet bears, has been 
onable to mark down quotations an’ thus roon th’ 
prosperity iv th’ nation. All his ol’ frinds will be 
glad to know that this pop’lar an’ affable gintleman 
has his eye on th’ ticker again. Lyman is th’ boy 

[ 1Q 4] 


PRESIDENT'S MESSAGE 

f’r th’ money,” or 61 1 dinnaw what I cud do 
without Lyman.” ‘ Something like that’d hit 
thim har-rd.’ 4 In passing/ says th’ sicrety iv 
war, ‘ye might say that ye were late in gettin’ 
hold iv th’ right man f’r me place, fr’m th’ 
r-right state, but now ye’ve got him ye don’t know 
how ye got along without him. Ye may add that 



I’m the first sicrety iv war that iver showed that th’ 
constitootion iv th’ United States is applicable on’y 
in such cases as it is applied to on account iv its 
applicability/ he says. ‘ F’r further particklars see 
small bills an’ me own report/ he says. ‘I don’t 
know/ says th’ sicrety iv th’ navy, ‘ whether ’tis 

[ 10 5 ] 


PRESIDENTS MESSAGE 


gin’rally undherstood, but,’ he says, ‘ye might point 
out that th’ navy niver was so efficient as at prisint,’ 
he says. ‘ Th’ name iv Jawn D. Long will not soon 
be f’rgotten be himsilf in common with his fellow- 
counthrymen,’ he says. ‘ An allusion to th’ gradjool 
extermination iv th’ thrusts would be much appre- 
cyated in Noo Jarsey,’ says th’ attorney-gin’ ral. 
‘ Those monsthers make their homes there,’ he says, 
‘ an’,’ he says, ‘ I will say f ’r thim, they’re good 
neighbors,’ he says. 

“ ‘ An’ while ye’re at it,’ says a modest voice 
fr’m th’ corner iv th’ room, ‘ don’t f’rget to dhrop in 
a bean f’r th’ sicrety iv agriculture — Tama Jim, th’ 
farmers’ frind. Gr-reat captains,’ he says, ‘ with 
their guns an’ dhrums,’ he says, ‘soon pass away, 
but whin they’re gone wan figure will stand out 
like th’ coopoly on a r-red barn,’ he says. ‘To 
whom d’ye refer*?’ angrily demands th’ sicrety iv 
war. ‘To mesilf,’ says th’ sicrety iv agriculture. 

“ ‘ Gintlemen,’ says th’ Prisident, ‘ ar-re ye all 
through?’ he says. ‘We ar-re,’ says they. ‘An’ 
where do I come in ? ’ he says. ‘ Why/ says th’ 
sicrety iv state, ‘ ye sign th’ docymint,’ says he. 
‘Well,’ says Mack, ‘I’ve heerd ye’er suggistions/ 
he says, ‘ an’ ye may go back to wurruk,’ he says. 
‘ I’ll write this message, an’ if ye see anny iv ye’er 
[ 1Q 6] 


PRESIDENT'S MESSAGE 


names in it,’ he says, ‘ye may conclude,’ he says, 
‘ that me hand has lost its cunning,’ he says. ‘ I 
guess,’ he says, ‘ I’m some huckleberries in this gov- 
ernmint mesilf,’ he says. 

“An’ he sets down an’ writes: ‘Fellow Citizens: 
I’m glad to see ye here, an hope ye won’t stay long. 
Thanks to ye’er Uncle Bill, times is lookin’ up an’ 
will be more so in th’ near future. Me foreign 
relations ar-re iv th’ most plisint nature. Ye will 
be glad to know that th’ frindship iv this counthry 
with Germany planted in Samoa an’ nourished at 
Manila has grown to such a point as to satisfy th’ 
mos’ critical German-American. With England 
we ar-re on such terms as must plaze ivry Cana- 
jeen, but not on anny such terms as wud make 
anny Irishman think we ar-re on such terms as we 
ought not to be. In other wurruds, we cherish a 
deep animosity mingled with passionate love, such 
a feelin’ as we must entertain to a nation with com- 
mon impulses f’r th’ same money an’ a common 
language iv abuse. To’rd our sister raypublic iv 
France an’ our ol’ frind an’ ally, Rooshia, to sunny 
Italy an’ Austhria an’ Boolgahria an’ oppressed 
Poland, to th’ Boer, who has manny rilitives here, 
an’ to ivry other nation but Chinnymen an’ Indyans 
not votin’, kind regards. I wud speak to ye on th’ 

[ xo 7 ] 


PRESIDENT'S MESSAGE 


subject iv thrusts, but I have nawthin’ to say. If 
ye want to smash this necess’ry evil, this octopus 
that with its horrible tentacles is crushin’ out an’ 
nourishin’ commerce, do it ye’ersilf. That’s what 
ye’er here f’r. Something ought to be done f ’r th’ 
Nic’ragyooa canal, but what th’ divvle it is, I din- 
naw. As f’r our newly acquired possessions, ’tis 
our intintion to give them a form iv governmint 
suited to their needs, which is small, an’ in short, to 
do as we blamed please with thim, makin’ up our 
minds as we go along. So no more fr’m ye’ers 
thruly, Willum McKinley.’ 

“ An’ there’s th’ message,” said Mr. Dooley. 

“An’ what did congress say*?” Mr. Hennessy 
asked. 

“ Congress didn’t say anny thing,” said Mr. Doo- 
ley. “ Congress yawned. But congress’ll get th’ 
rale message whin it goes over to th’ white house 
wan at a time to see about th’ foorth-class post- 
masthers.” 


[ 1Q 8] 


POLYGAMY 


OW manny wives has this here man 
Roberts that’s thryin’ to break into Con- 
gress ? ” Mr. Dooley asked. 

“ I dinnaw,” said Mr. Hennessy ; “ I 
nivver heerd iv him.” 

“I think it’s three,” said Mr. Dooley. “No 
wondher he needs wurruk an’ is fightin’ hard f ’r th’ 
job. I’m with him too, be hivens. Not that I’m 
be taste or inclination a man-yin’ man, Hinnissy. 
They may get me to th’ altar some day. Th’ best 
iv us falls, like Cousin George, an’ there ar-re de- 
signin’ women in this very block that I have me 
own throubles in dodgin’. But anny time ye hear 
iv me bein’ dhrawn fr’m th’ quite miseries an’ ex- 
clusive discomforts iv single life ye may know that 
they have caught me asleep an’ chloroformed me. 
It’s thrue. But f’r thim that likes it, it’s all r-right, 
an’ if a man’s done something in his youth that he 

[ !°9] 



POLYGAMY 


has to do pinance f’r an’ th’ stations iv th’ cross ain’t 
sthrong enough, lave him, says I, marry as manny 
women as he wants an’ live with them an’ die con- 
tint. Th’ Mormons thinks they ar-re commanded 
be the Lord f 'r to marry all th’ ineligeable Swede 
women. Now, I don’t believe th’ Lord iver com- 
manded even a Mormon f’r to do annything so 
foolish, an’ if he did he wudden’t lave th’ command 
written on a pie-plate an’ burrid out there at Nau- 
voo, in Hancock county, Illinye. Ye can bet on 
that, Hinnissy. 

“ But if anny wan believes ’twas done, I say, lave 
him believe it an’ lave him clasp to his bosom as 
manny Olesons as ’ll have him. Sure in th’ prisint 
state iv th’ mathrimonyal market, as Hogan calls it, 
whin he goes down to coort th’ rich Widow 
O’Brien, th’ la-ad that wants to engage in interprises 
iv that sort ought to have a frind in ivry wan but 
th’ men that keeps imploymint agencies. 

“ But no. Th’ minyit a Mormon thries to break 
into a pollytical job, a dillygation rises an’ says they : 
4 What ! ’ they says, 4 permit this polluted monsther 
f’r to invade th’ chaste atmosphere,’ they says, 4 iv 
th’ house iv riprisintatives,’ they says. 4 Permit him 
f’r to parade his fam’ly down Pinnsylvanya Av’noo 
an’ block thraffic,’ they says. 4 Permit him mebbe 
[no] 


POLYGAMY 


to set in th’ chair wanst occypied be th’ laminted 
Breckinridge,’ they says. An’ they proceed f’r to 
hunt th’ poor, crowded man. An’ he takes a day 
off to kiss his wife fr’m house to house, an’ holds a 
meetin’ iv his childher to bid thim good-by an’ 
r-runs to hide in a cave till th’ dillygation raymim- 
bers that they have husbands iv their own an’ goes 
home to cook th’ supper. 

“ A Mormon, Hinnissy, is a man that has th’ bad 
taste an’ th’ rellijion to do what a good manny other 
men ar-re restrained fr’m doin’ be conscientious 
scruples an’ th’ polis. I don’t want anny wife ; ye, 
Hinnissy, ar-re satisfied, not to say con-tint, with 
wan ; another la-ad feels that he’d be lonesome with- 
out tin. 4 Tis a matther iv disposition. If iver I 
got started th’ Lord on’y knows where I’d bring up. 
I might be like me frind an’ fellow-sultan, Hadji 
Mohammed. Hadji has wives to burn, an’ wanst 
in awhile he bur-rns w^n. He has a betther job 
thin Congressman. 

“ Th’ best a congressman can get is foorth-class 
postmasther an’ a look in at th’ White House on 
visitin’ day. But Hadji, th’ pop’lar an’ iloquent 
sultan iv Sulu an’ Bazeen iv th’ Ohio iv th’ Passy- 
fic, owns his own palace an’ disthributes his own 
jobs. No man can hold th’ office iv bow-sthringer 

Cm] 


POLYGAMY 


iv our impeeryal domain without a certy-ficate fr’m 
Hadji. From th’ highest office in th’ land to th’ 
lowest, fr’m th’ chief pizener to th’ throne, to th’ 
humblest ixicutioner that puts a lady in a bag an’ 
dumps her into th’ lake in th’ Nine Millionth As- 
simbly district they look to Hadji Mohammed f’r 
their places. He is th’ High Guy, th’ Main Thing. 
He’s ivrybody. When he quits wurrk th’ govern- 
mint is over f’r th’ day. An’ does annywan thry to 
interfere with Hadji? Does annywan say ‘Hadji, 
ye’ll have to abandon two or three hundherd iv ye 
’er firesides. Ye ar-re livin’ jus’ inside th’ left field 
fince iv our domain an’ ’tis a rule iv th’ game that 
we’ve taken ye into that no wan shall have more 
thin wan wife at a time that annywan knows iv. 
In’ behalf iv th’ comity iv th’ Society f’r th’ Sup- 
prission iv Poly-gamy, I request ye to discard Nora 
an’ Eileen an’ Mary Ann an’ Sue an’ Bimbi an’ th’ 
r-rest iv th’ bunch, an’ cleave on’y to Lucille. I 
judge be her looks that she’s th’ first Missus 
Haitch.’ 

“ No, sir. If he did he’d reach th’ ship that runs 
between our outlying wards without a hair to his 
head. Instead iv reproachin’ Hadji with his domes- 
tic habits, wan iv th’ envoys that ar-re imployed in 
carryin’ messages fr’m th’ prisidint to his fellow-citi- 
[ 112] 


POLYGAMY 

zens, proceeds to th’ pretty little American village 
iv Sulu, where he finds Hadji settin’ up on a high 
chair surrounded be wives. ’Tis a domestic scene 
that’d make Brigham Young think he was a bache- 
lor. Hadji is smokin’ a good seegar an’ occasion- 
ally histin’ a dhrink iv cider, an’ wan iv th’ ladies is 
playin’ a guitar, an’ another is singin’ 4 I want ye my 
Sulu,’ an’ another is makin’ a tidy, an’ three or four 
hundred more ar-re sewin’ patches on th’ pants iv 
th’ Hadji kids. An’ th’ ambassadure he says: 
4 Mos’ rile an’ luminous citizen, here is a copy iv 
th’ Annual Thanksgivin’ pro-clamation,’ he says. 
4 ’Tis addhressed to all th’ hearty husbandmen iv 
our belovid counthry, manin’ you among others,’ 
he says. 4 An’ here,’ he says, 4 is th’ revised consti- 
tution,’ he says. 4 Th’ original wan,’ he says, 4 was 
intinded f’r ol’ stick-in-th’-muds that wudden’t 
know th’ difference between a harem an’ a hoe,’ he 
says. 4 This wan,’ he says, 4 is more suited f’r th’ 
prisint gay an’ expansive times,’ he says. It permits 
a man 4 To cleave to as manny wives,’ he says, 4 as 
his race, color, an’ prevyous condition iv servitude 
will permit,’ he says. 4 Thank ye kindly,’ says 
Hadji, 4 I’ll threasure these here papers as a valu- 
able meminto fr’m that far distant home iv mine 
which I have niver see,’ he says. 4 I’d inthrojooce 

[ " 3 ] 


POLYGAMY 


ye to Mrs. Hadji wan by wan,’ he says, 4 but ’twud 
be betther,’ he says, 4 f’r to stand up here an’ be 
prisinted to her as a whole,’ he says, 4 f ’r,’ he says, 
4 ’tis growing late an’ I want ye to come up to th’ 
house,’ he says, 4 an’ pick a mission’ry with me,’ he 
says. 4 A Baptist,’ he says, ‘raised on th’ farm,’ 
he says. An’ Hadji holds his job an’ looks for’rard 
to th’ day whin we’ll have female suffrage an’ he 
can cast th’ solid vote iv Sulu for himsilf f ’r prisi- 
dent.” 

44 Thin,” said Mr. Hennessy, 44 ye’er frind Roberts 
ought to move to what-d’ye-call-th’ place.” 

“That’s what I’m thinkin’,” said Mr. Dooley. 
44 But ’tis too bad f ’r him he was bor-rn at home.” 


[in] 


PUBLIC FICKLENESS 

R. DOOLEY put his paper aside and 
pushed his spectacles up on his fore- 
head. “ W ell,” he said, “ I suppose, 
afther all, we’re th’ mos’ lively nation in 
th’ wurruld. It doesn’t seem many months ago 
since ye, Hinnissy, was down at th’ depot cheerin’ 

th’ departin’ heroes ” 

“ I niver was,” said Mr. Hennessey. “ I stayed 
at home.” 

“ Since ye was down cheerin’ th’ departin’ heroes,” 
Mr. Dooley continued, “ an’ thryin’ to collect what 
they owed ye. Th’ papers was full iv news iv th’ 
war. Private Jawn Thomas Bozoom iv Woon- 
socket, a mimber iv th’ gallant an’ devoted Wan 
Hundhred an’ Eighth Rhode Island, accidentally 
slipped on a orange peel while attimptin’ to lave th’ 
recruitin’ office an’ sustained manny con-tu-sions. 

[>15] 



PUBLIC FICKLENESS 


He rayfused to be taken home an’ insisted on jinin’ 
his rig’mint at th’ rayciption in th’ fair groun’s. 
Gallant Private Bozoom ! That’s th’ stuff that 
American heroes ar-re made iv. Ye find thim at 
th’ forge an’ at th’ plough, an’ dhrivin’ sthreet cars, an’ 
ridin’ in th’ same. The favored few has th’ chanst 
to face th’ bullets iv th’ inimy. ’Tis f’r these un- 
known pathrites to prove that a man can sarve his 
counthry at home as well as abroad. Private Bo- 
zoom will not be f’rgot be his fellow-counthrymen. 
A rayciption has been arranged f’r him atth’ Woon- 
socket op’ry-house, an’ ’tis said if he will accipt it, 
th’ vote iv th’ State iv Rhode Island’ll be cast f’r 
him f’r prisidint. ’Tis at such times as this that we 
reflict that th’ wurruld has wurruk f’r men to do, 
„ an’ mere politicians mus’ retire to th’ rear. 

“ That was a few months ago. Where’s Bozoom 
now? If iver ye go to Woonsocket, Hinnissy, 
which Gawd f’rbid, ye’ll find him behind th’ coun- 
ther iv th’ grocery store ladlin’ out rutabaga turnips 
into a brown paper cornucopy an’ glad to be alive. 
An’ ’tis tin to wan, an’ more thin that, that th’ town 
humorist has named him th’ orange-peel hero, an’ 
he’ll go to his grave with that name. Th’ war is 
over an’ th’ state iv war exists. If ye saw a man fall 
fr’m th’ top iv a tin-story buildin’ ’twud startle ye, 
[u6] 


PUBLIC FICKLENESS 

wanst. If it happened again, ’twud surprise ye. 
But if ye saw a man fall ivry fifteen minyits ye’d go 
home afther awhile f’r supper an’ ye wuddent even 
mintion it to ye’er wife. 

“ I don’t know how manny heroes they ar-re in 
th’ Philippeens. Down there a man is ayether a 
sojer or a casualty. Bein’ a casualty is no good. I 



cud say about a man : 4 He was a hero in th’ war 
with Spain,’ but how can I say : 4 Shake hands with 
Bill Grady, wan iv th’ ladin’ casualties iv our late 
war?’ ’Twud be no more thin to say he was 
wan iv th’ gallant men that voted f’r prisidint in 
1896. 

44 No, Hinnissy, people wants novelties in war. 
Th’ war fashions iv 1898 is out iv style. They ar-re 

[H7] 


PUBLIC FICKLENESS 


too full in th’ waist an’ too long in th’ skirt. Th’ 
style has changed. There ar-re fifty thousand back- 
ward men in th’ fair isles iv th’ Passyfic fightin’ to 
free th’ Philippeen fr’m himsilf an’ becomin’ a casu- 
alty in th’ operation, but no one is charterin’ ar-rmy 
hospital ships f’r thim. 

“No one is convartin’ anny steam yachts f’r thim. 
No wan is sindin’ eighty tons iv plum puddin’ to 
complete th’ wurruk iv destruction. They ar-re in 
a war that’d make th’ British throops in Africa think 
they were drillin’ f’r a prize banner. But ’tis an on- 
fashionable war. ’Tis an oP war made over fr’m 
garments formerly worn be heroes. Whin a man 
is out in th’ counthry with wan newspaper an’ has 
read th’ authentic dispatches fr’m Ladysmith an’ 
Harrismith an’ Willumaldensmith an’ Mysterious- 
billysmith an’ the meetin’ iv th’ czar iv Rooshia 
with th’ Impror Willum an’ th’ fire in th’ packin’ 
house an’ th’ report iv th’ canal thrustees an’ th’ 
fightin’ news an’ th’ want ads, an’ afther he has 
r-read thim over twinty times he looks at his watch 
an’ says he, ‘ Holy smoke, ’tis two hours to thrain 
time an’ I suppose I’ll have to r-read th’ news fr’m 
th’ Philippeens.’ War, be hivins, is so common 
that I believe if we was to take on a fight with all 
th’ wurruld not more thin half th’ popylation iv 

[ 1 1 8 3 


PUBLIC FICKLENESS 


New England’d die iv hear-rt disease befure they 
got into th’ cellars.” 

“ Th’ new style iv war is made in London an’ all 
our set is simply stuck on it. Th’ casualties in th’ 
Philippeens can walk home, but is it possible that 
many thrue an’ well-dhressed American can stand to 
see th’ signs iv th’ ancient British aristocracy taken 
care iv be their own gover’mint ? 4 What,’ says 

Lady what’s-her-name (her that was th’ daughter iv 
wan iv our bravest an’ best racontoors). 6 What,’ 
she says, 4 will anny American woman residin’ in 
London see men shot down,’ she says, 4 that has but 
recently played polo in our very sight,’ she says, 4 an’ 
be brought home in mere thransports,’ she says. 
4 Ladies,’ she says, 4 lave us equip a hospital ship,’ 
she says. ‘ I thrust,’ she says, 4 that all iv us has 
been long enough fr’m home to f’rget our despica- 
ble domestic struggles,’ she says, 4 an’ think on’y iv 
humanity,’ she says. An’ whin she opens up th’ 
shop f’r subscriptions ye’d think fr’m th’ crowd that 
’twas th’ first night iv th’ horse show. I don’t know 
what Lem Stiggins iv Kansas, marked down in th’ 
roll, Private in th’ Twintieth Kansas, Severely, I 
don’t know what Private Severely thinks iv it. 
An’ I wuddent like to know till afther Thanks- 
givin’.” 


[>• 9 ] 


PUBLIC FICKLENESS 


“Don’t be blatherin’,” said Mr. Hennessy. “Sure 
ye can’t ixpict people to be inthrested f’river in a 
first performance.” 

“No,” said Mr. Dooley, “but whin th’ audjeence 
gives th’ comp’ny an encore it ought at laste to pre» 
tind that it’s not lavin’ f’r th’ other show.” 


[ 120 ] 


KENTUCKY POLITICS 


F th’ Presidint doesn’t step in an’ inter- 
fere,” said Mr. Hennessy, “they’ll be 
bloodshed in Kentucky.” 

“ What business is it iv Mack’s ? ” 
Mr. Dooley protested. “ Th’ war’s in this counthry, 
man alive ! If ’twas in Boolgahria or Chiny or on 
th’ head waters iv th’ Bozoon river in th’ sooltynate 
iv — iv — I dinnaw what — thin ’twud be th’ jooty iv 
our gover’mint f ’r to resolve that th’ inthrests iv hu- 
manity an’ civilization an’ th’ advancement iv th’ 
human kind required that we shud step in an’ put a 
head on wan or both iv th’ parties. But they’se no 
reason now, me boy, f ’r us to do annything, f ’r these 
are our own people, an’ ’tis wan iv their rights, un- 
dher th’ martial law that’s th’ foundation iv our insti- 
tutions, to bate each other to death whiniver an* 
whereiver they plaze. ’Twud be all r-right f’r the 
Impror Wilium to come in an’ take a hand, but 



KENTUCKY POLITICS 


Gawd help him if he did, or th’ Prisidint iv th’ 
Fr-rinch or th’ Impror iv Chiny. ’Twud be all 
r-right f ’r thim. An’ though we might meet thim 
at th’ dure an’ hand thim wan f’r their impydince, 
we’d be in th’ wrong. ’Twud be a good job f’r 
Aggynaldoo, too, if he cud find himsilf an’ had th’ 
time. It must be clear to him be what news he 
hears whin th’ other pilgrim father, Sinitor Hoar, 
calls on him in th’ three where he makes his home, 
that what Kentucky needs now is wan an’ on’y wan 
stable govermint an’ a little public peace. He 
might restore peace at' honae £n r abroad be cuttin’ 
in, but th’ poor la-ad has other things to think iv. 
I’d like to see him. It must be near a year since he 
had a shave or a hair cut, barrin’ ridges made be 
bullets as he cleared th’ fences.” 

“ It looks to me as though th’ raypublican is 
wr-rong,” said Mr. Hennessy, with the judicial man- 
ner of a man without prejudices. 

44 Iv coorse he’s wrong,” said Mr. Dooley. 44 He 
starts wrong. An’ th’ dimmycrats ar-re r-right. 
They’re always r-right. ’Tis their position. Th’ 
dimmycrats ar-re right an’ the raypublicans has th’ 
jobs. It all come up because our vinerated party, 
Hinnissy, ain’t quick at th’ count. Man an’ boy 
I’ve taken an intherest in politics all me life, an’ I 
[ > 22 ] 


KENTUCKY POLITICS 

find th’ on’y way to win an iliction is to begin f ’r to 
count th’ minyit ye’ve completed th’ preliminaries iv 
closin’ th’ polls an’ killin’ th’ other judges an’ clerks. 

“ Th’ dimmycrats counted, but th’ count come too 
late. Be th’ time th’ apparent an’ hidjous majority 



iv th’ raypublicans was rayjooced to nawthin’ an’ a 
good liberal, substantial, legal an’ riotous dimmy- 
cratic majority put in its place be ordher iv th’ 
coorts, th’ commonwealth iv Kentucky an’ Jack 
Chinn, th’ raypublican has been so long in th’ job 
an’ has become so wedded to it that ye cuddent 
shake him out with a can iv joynt powdher. It 
seems to him that there niver was a time whin he 
wasn’t gov’nor. 


[ > 2 3 ] 


KENTUCKY POLITICS 


“ Th’ dimmycrats get together an’ call on that 
learned an’ incorruptible joodishary that’s done so 
much to ilivate the party into high office, an’ whin 
th’ dure iv th’ saloon is locked they say ‘ Bill,’ they 
say, ‘ we’re bein’ robbed iv our suffrage,’ says they. 
4 Th’ hated enimy has stolen th’ ballot an’ thrampled 
on th’ r-rights iv th’ citizens,’ says they, ‘ in the 
southern part iv th’ state faster thin we cud undo 
their hellish wurruk in our own counties,’ they says. 
‘ They now hoi’ th’ jobs,’ they say, 4 an’ if they stay 
in they’se no more chanst iv iver ilictin’ a dimmy- 
crat again thin there wud be iv ilictin’ a raypubli- 
can if we got in,’ they say. 4 Do ye mix us up a 
replevy writ an’ we’ll go over an’ haul th’ chair fr’m 
undher thim,’ they say. 

“ So th’ judge passes out a replevy writ be vartue 
iv th’ thrust that’s been reposed in him be th’ com- 
ity and gives it to Colonel Jack Chinn, wan iv th’ 
leaders iv th’ Kentucky bar, f’r to serve. An’ 
Colonel Jack Chinn ar-rms himsilf as becomes a 
riprisintative iv a gr-reat coort goin’ to sarve a 
sacred writ iv replevy on th’ usurper to th’ loftiest 
or wan iv th’ loftiest jobs that th’ people iv a glo- 
ryous state can donate to a citizen. He sthraps on 
three gatlin’ guns, four revolvers, two swords, a 
rifle, a shot gun, a baseball bat, a hand grenade (to 

it 124] 


KENTUCKY POLITICS 


be used on’y in case iv thirst), a pair iv handcuffs, 
brass knuckles, a sandbag, a piece of lead pipe in a 
stockin’, a rabbit’s foot f ’r luck, a stove lid an’ a can 
iv dinnymite, an’ with siveral iv his cillybrated 
knives behind his ears, in his hair, between his 
teeth, an’ gleamin’ fr’m his pockets, he sallies forth 
on his sacred mission, an’ gives th’ writ to a clerk 
to sarve, an’ stays in town himsilf, where he suc- 
cessfully resists all charges iv th’ bartinder. Th’ 
clerk goes up to th’ state house, where th’ gov’nor 
is ixicutin’ th’ high thrust reposed in him be him- 
silf, behind breastworks an’ guarded be some iv 
th’ most desp’rate an’ pathriotic ruffyans in th’ state. 
4 What have ye there ? ’ says his ixcillincy, with his 
hand on th’ sthring iv a dinnymite gun. 6 A writ 
fr’m th’ coort bouncin’ ye fr’m ye’er high office,’ 
says th’ clerk. 6 As a law abidin’ citizen,’ says his 
ixcillincy, ‘an’ an official enthrusted be th’ people 
iv this glad state with th’ exicution iv th’ statutes 
I bow to th’ law,’ he says. 4 But,’ he says, 4 I’ll be 
hanged if I’ll bow to th’ decree iv anny low browed 
pussillanimous dimmycratic coort,’ he says, ‘So- 
jers,’ he says, ‘ seize this disturber iv th’ peace an’ 
stick him in th’ cellar. Jawn,’ he says, 4 ar-rm ye’er- 
silf an’ proceed to th’ raypublican timple iv justice 
in Hogan’s saloon an’ have th’ stanch an’ upright 

[ 12 5 ] 


KENTUCKY POLITICS 


Judge Blood prepare some good honest writs iv 
th’ party iv Lincoln an’ Grant,’ he says. 6 In th’ 
manetime, as th’ constitootion has lost its sights an’ 
the cylinder don’t revolve,’ he says, 4 1 suspind it 
an’ proclaim martial law,’ he says. 4 1 want a law,’ 
he says, 4 that mesilf an’ all other good citizens can 
rayspict,’ he says. 4 1 want wan,’ he says, 4 that’s 
been made undher me own personal supervision,’ 
he says. 4 Hand-made, copper distilled, wan hun- 
dherd an’ tin proof martial law ought to be good 
enough for anny Kentuckyan,’ he says. So th’ 
next ye hear th’ sojers ar-re chasin’ th’ coorts out iv 
th’ state, th’ legislature is meetin’ in Duluth, Pin- 
sacola, an’ Bangor, Maine, an’ a comity iv citizens 
consistin’ iv some iv the best gun fighters iv th’ 
state ar-re meetin’ to decide how th’ conthroversay 
can be decided without loss iv blood or jobs. 
While they’re in session th’ gov’nor is in contimpt 
iv coort, the coorts ar-re in contimpt iv th’ gov’nor, 
an’ if annybody but Tiddy Rosenfelt has anny other 
feelin’ f’r ayether iv thim I haven’t heerd him 
speak.” 

44 They ought to fire out the raypublican,” said 
Mr. Hennessy. 44 Sure ’tis cornin’ to a nice state iv 
affairs whin th’ likes iv him can defy the coorts.” 

44 Thrue f’r ye,” said Mr. Dooley. 44 But I don’t 

|> 6 ] 


KENTUCKY POLITICS 


like th’ looks iv it fr’m our side iv th’ house. 
Whiniver a dimmycrat has to go to coort to win 
an iliction I get suspicious. They’se something 
wr-rong in Kentucky, Hinnissy. We were too 
slow. Th’ inimy got th’ first cheat.” 


[ 12 7 ] 







YOUNG ORATORY 

HEY’SE wan thing that this counthry 
ought to be thankful f’r,” said Mr. 
Dooley, laying down his paper, “an’ 
that is that we still have a lot iv young 
an’ growin’ orators f’r to lead us on.” 

“Who’s been oratin’ now?” Mr. Hennessy 
asked. 

“ Me young frind Sinitor Beveridge, th’ child or- 
ator iv Fall Creek. This engagin’ an’ hopeful la-ad 
first made an impression with his eloquince at th’ 
age iv wan whin he addhressed a meetin’ iv th’ Tip- 
pecanoe club on th’ issues iv th’ day. At th’ age 
iv eight he was illicted to th’ United States Sinit, 
rayjoocin’ th’ average age iv that body to ninety- 
three years. In th’ sinit, bein’ a modest child, he 
rayfused to speak f’r five minyits, but was fin’lly 
injooced f’r to make a few thousan’ remarks on 
wan iv th’ subjects now much discussed by orators 

[ 12 9 ] 



YOUNG ORATORY 

whin th’ dures ar-re closed an’ th’ fire escapes 
broken. 

44 His subject was th’ Ph’lippeens, an’ he said he’d 
just come fr’m there. 4 1 have cruised,’ he says, ‘ f ’r 
two thousan’ miles through th’ Ar-rchey Pelago — 
that’s a funny name — ivry minyit a surprise an’ de- 
light to those that see me,’ he says. 4 1 see corn 
growin’ on banana threes ; I see th’ gloryous heights 
iv Ding Dong that ar-re irradyatin’ civilization like 
quills upon th’ fretful porcypine,’ he says. 4 1 see 
rice, coffee, rolls, cocoanuts, choice seegars, oats, 
hay, hard and soft coal, an’ Gen’ral Otis — an’ there’s 
a man that I rayspict,’ he says. 4 1 see flowers 
bloomin’ that was superyor to anny conservatory in 
Poolasky county,’ he says. 4 1 see th’ low and vi- 
cious inhabitants iv th’ counthry soon, I thrust, to 
be me fellow-citizens, an’ as I set there an’ watched 
th’ sea rollin’ up its uncounted millyons iv feet iv 
blue wather, an’ th’ stars sparklin’ like lamp-posts 
we pass in th’ night, as I see th’ mountains raisin’ 
their snow-capped heads f’r to salute th’ sun, while 
their feet extinded almost to th’ place where I shtud ; 
whin I see all th’ glories iv that almost, I may say, 
thropical clime, an’ thought what a good place this 
wud be f’r to ship base-burnin’ parlor stoves, an’ 
men’s shirtings to th’ accursed natives iv neighborin’ 

[ » 3 °] 


YOUNG ORATORY 


Chiny, I says to mesilf, ‘ This is no mere man’s 
wurruk. A Higher Power even than Mack, much 
as I rayspict him, is in this here job. We cannot 
pause, we cannot hesitate, we cannot delay, we can- 
not even stop ! We must, in other wurruds, go on 
with a holy purpose in our hearts, th’ flag over our 



heads an’ th’ inspired wurruds iv A. Jeremiah Bev- 
eridge in our ears,’ he says. An’ he set down. 

“Well, sir, ’twas a gr-reat speech. ’Twas a 
speech ye cud waltz to. Even younger men thin 
Sinitor Beveridge had niver made grander orations. 
Th’ throuble is th’ sinit is too common f ’r such mag- 
nificent sintimints ; its too common an’ its too old. 
Th’ young la-ad comes fr’m home, where’s he’s par- 

[ 131 ] 



YOUNG ORATORY 


alyzed th’ Lithry Society an’ th’ Debatin’ Club, an’ 
he loads himsilf up with a speech an’ he says to 
himsilf : 6 Whin I begin peggin’ ar-round a few iv 

these vilets I’ll make Ol’ Hoar look like confederate 
money,’ an’ th’ pa-apers tell that th’ Infant Demos- 
theens iv Barry’s Junction is about f’r to revive th’ 
oratorical thraditions iv th’ sinit an’ th’ fire depart- 
ment comes up f’r a week, an’ wets down th’ capitol 
buildin’. Th’ speech comes off, they ain’t a dhry 
eye in th’ House, an’ th’ pa-apers say : 4 Where’s 

ye’er Dan’l Webster an ye’er Champ Clark, now ’ 
An’ th’ young man goes away an’ has his pitchers 
took on a kinetoscope. He has a nice time while it 
lasts, Hinnissy, but it don’t las’ long. It don’t las’ 
long. Th’ la-ad has th’ wind, but it’s endurance 
that counts. 

“ Th’ wise ol’ boys with their long whiskers dis- 
cusses him over th’ sivin-up game, an’ says wan iv 
thim : 4 What ye think iv th’ kid’s speech ? ’ 4 ’Twas 
a good speech,’ says th’ other. 4 It carries me back to 
me own boyhood days. I made a speech just like 
that durin’ th’ Mexican War. Oh, thim days, thim 
days ! I lead th’ ace, Mike.’ An’ afther awhile th’ 
Boy Demostheens larns that while he’s polishin’ off 
his ipigrams, an’ ol’ guy, that spinds all his time 
sleepin’ on a bench, is polishin’ him off. Th’ man 

[ » 3 2 ] 


YOUNG ORATORY 


that sinds seeds to his constitooents lasts longer thin 
th’ wan that sinds thim flowers iv iloquence, an’ 
though th’ hand iv Gawd may be in th’ Ph’lippeen 
question, it hasn’t interfered up to date in th’ ser- 
geant-at-arms question. An’ whin th’ young man 
sees this he says, 4 sky,’ whin he means 4 sky’ an’ 
not 4 th’ jooled canopy iv hiven,’ an’ he says, ‘Ph’lip- 
peens,’ an’ not 4 th’ gloryous isles iv th’ Passyfic,’ an’ 
bein’ onto th’ character iv his fellow-sinitors, he 
mintions nobody higher in their prisence thin th’ 
steward iv th’ capitol. An’ he niver makes a speech 
but whin he wants to smoke, an’ thin he moves that 
th’ sinit go into executive session. Thin he’s a rale 
sinitor. I’ve seen it manny’s th’ time — th’ boy ora- 
tor goin’ into th’ sinit, an’ cornin’ out a deef mute. 
I’ve seen a man that made speeches that was set to 
music an’ played be a silver cornet band in Ioway 
that hadn’t been in Congress f ’r a month befure he 
wudden’t speak above a whisper or more thin an 
inch fr’m ye’er ear.” 

44 Do ye think Hiven sint us to th’ Ph’lippeens ” 
Mr. Hennessy asked. 

44 1 don’t know,” said Mr. Dooley, 44 th’ divvle 
take thim.” 


[ *33] 


PUBLIC GRATITUDE 

HIS man Dewey — began Mr. Doo- 
ley. 

“ I thought he was ye’er cousin 
George,” Mr. Hennessy interrupted. 

“ I thought he was,” said Mr. Dooley, “ but on 
lookin’ closer at his features an’ r-readin’ what th’ 
pa-apers says about him, I am convinced that I was 
wrong. Oh, he may be a sicond cousin iv me 
Aunt Judy. I’ll not say he ain’t. There was a 
poor lot, all iv them. But I have no close rilitives 
in this counthry. ’Tis a way I have of savin’ a 
little money. I’m like th’ good an’ gr-rateful 
American people. Th’ further ye stay away fr’m 
thim th’ more they like ye. Sicond-cousin-iv-me 
Aunt-Judy-George made a mistake cornin’ home, 
or if he did come home he ought’ve invistigated 
his welcome and see that it wasn’t mined. A 
man cud stand up all day an’ lave Packy Mount- 

[135] 



PUBLIC GRATITUDE 


joy whale away at him, but th’ affiction iv th’ 
American people is always aimed thrue an’ is in- 
varyably fatal. 

“Th’ la-ad Dougherty was in to-day, an’ he 
exprissed th’ feelin’s iv this grateful raypublic. 
He says, says he, 4 This fellow Dewey ain’t what 
I thought he was,’ he says. 4 1 thought he was 
a good, broad, lib’ral man, an’ it turns out he’s a 
cheap skate,’ he says. 4 We made too much fuss 
over him,’ he says. 4 To think,’ he says, 4 iv him 
takin’ th’ house we give him an’ tur-rnin’ it over to 
his wife,’ he says. 4 ’Tis scand’lous,’ he says. 4 How 
much did ye con-thribute ? ’ says I. 4 1 didn’t give 
annything,’ he says ‘The collector didn’t come 
around, an’ I’m glad now I hung on to me coin,’ he 
says. 4 Well,’ says I, 4 1 apprechate ye’er feelin’s, ’ I 
says. 4 Ye agree with th’ other subscribers,’ I says. 
4 But I’ve med up me mind not to lave annywan 
talk to me about Dewey,’ I says, ‘unless,’ I says, 
4 he subscribed th’ maximum amount iv th’ sub- 
scription,’ I says, 4 thirty-eight cints,’ I says. 4 So 
I’ll thank ye to tip-toe out,’ I says, 4 befure I give ye 
a correct imitation iv Dewey an’ Mountjoy at th’ 
battle of Manila,’ I says. An’ he wint away. 

44 Th’ throuble with Dewey is he was so long 
away he lost his undherstanding iv th’ thrue feelin’ 

[136] 


PUBLIC GRATITUDE 


iv th’ American people. George r-read th’ news- 
papers, an’ he says to himself : 4 Be hivins, they 
think well iv what I done. I guess I’ll put a shirt 
in me thrunk an’ go home, f’r ’tis hot out here, an’ 
ivrybody’ll be glad f’r to see me,’ he says. An’ he 
come along, an’ New York was r-ready f’r him. 
Th’ business in neckties had been poor that summer, 
an’ they was necessity f’r pullin’ it together, an’ they 
give George a welcome an’ invited his admirers 
fr’m th’ counthry to come in an’ buy something 
f’r th’ little wans at home. An’ he r-rode up Fifth 
Avnoo between smilin’ rows iv hotels an’ dhrug 
stores, an’ tin-dollar boxes an’ fifty-cint seats an’ he 
says to himsilf : 4 Holy smoke, if Aggynaldoo cud 
on’y see me now.’ An’ he was proud an’ happy, 
an’ he says : 4 Raypublics ar-re not always ongrate- 
ful.’ An’ they ain’t. On’y whin they give ye much 
gratichood ye want to freeze some iv it, or it won’t 
keep. 

44 ’Tis unsafe f’r anny man alive to receive th’ 
kind wurruds that ought to be said on’y iv th’ dead. 
As long as George was a lithograph iv himsilf in 
a saloon window he was all r-right. Whin people 
saw he cud set in a city hall hack without flowers 
growin’ in it an’ they cud look at him without 
smoked glasses they begin to weaken in their 

[ *37 ] 


PUBLIC GRATITUDE 

devotion. ’Twud’ve been th’ same, almost, if he’d 
married a Presbyteeryan an’ hadn’t deeded his house 
to his wife. 4 Dewey don’t look much like a hero,’ 
says wan man. ‘ I shud say not,’ says another. 
4 He looks like annybody else.’ 4 He ain’t a hero,’ 
says another. 4 Why, annybody cud’ve done what 
he did. I got an eight-year-old boy, an’ if he cud- 
den’t take a baseball club an’ go in an’ bate that 
Spanish fleet into junk in twinty minyits I’d call 
him Alger an’ thrade him off f’r a bicycle,’ he says. 
4 1 guess that’s r-right. They say he was a purty 
tough man befure he left Wash’n’ ton.’ 4 Sure he 
was. Why, so-an’-so-an’-so-an’-so.’ 4 Y e don’t tell 
me !’ 4 Is there annything in that story about his 

beatin’ his poor ol’ aunt an’ her iliven childher out 
iv four dollars *?’ 4 1 guess that’s straight. Ye can 

tell be th’ looks iv him he’s a mean man. I niver 
see a man with squintin’ eyes an’ white hair that 
wudden’t rob a church ! ’ 4 He’s a cow’rd, too. 

Why, he r-run away at th’ battle iv Manila. Iv- 
rybody knows it. I r-read what Joe What’s-His- 
Name wrote — th’ br-rave corryspondint. He says 
this feller was sick at his stummick an’ retired be- 
fure th’ Spanish fire. Why, what’d he have to fight 
but a lot iv ol’ row-boats *? A good swimmer with 
sharp teeth cud’ve bit his way through th’ whole 

[>38] 


PUBLIC GRATITUDE 


Spanish fleet. An’ he r-run away. I tell ye, it 
makes me tired to think iv th’ way we abused th’ 
Spanyards not long ago. Why, say, they done a 
lot betther thin this fellow Dewey, with his forty or 
fifty men-iv-war an’ this gran’ nation, miles away, 
standin’ shoulder to shoulder at his back. They 
niver tur-rned over their property to their wives.’ 
‘ Yes,’ says wan man, ‘Dewey was a cow’rd. Let’s 
go an’ stone his house.’ ‘ No,’ says the crowd, 4 he 
might come out. Let’s go down to th’ v’riety show 
an’ hiss his pitcher in th’ kinetoscope.’ Well! ’ ” 

“Well what?” demanded Mr. Hennessy. 

44 Well,” Mr. Dooley continued, u I was on’y 
goin’ to say, Hinnissy, that in spite iv me hathred 
iv George as a man — a marrid man — an’ me con- 
timpt f’r his qualities as a fighter, in spite iv th’ 
chickens he has stole an’ the notes he has forged an’ 
th’ homes he has rooned, if he was to come r-runnin’ 
up Archey road, as he might, pursooed be ladies 
an’ gintlemen an’ th’ palajeem iv our liberties pelt- 
in him with rotten eggs an’ ol’ cats, I’d open th’ 
dure f’r him, an’ whin he come in I’d put me fut 
behind it an’ I’d say to th’ grateful people : 4 Fel- 
low-citizens,’ I’d say, 4 lave us,’ I’d say. 4 They’se 
another hero down in Halstead Sthreet that’s been 
marrid. Go down an’ shivaree him. An’ you, me 

[ J 39 ] 


PUBLIC GRATITUDE 


thrusted collagues iv th’ press, disperse to ye’er 
homes , 5 I’d say. ‘Th 5 keyholes is closed f’r th 5 
night, I’d say. An 5 thin I’d bolt th 5 dure an 5 I’d 
say, ‘ George, take off ye’er coat an 5 pull up to th 5 
fire. Here’s a noggin 5 iv whisky near ye’er thumb 
an 5 a good seegar f’r ye to smoke. I’m no hero- 
worshiper. I’m too old. But I know a man whin 
I see wan, an’ though we cudden’t come out an’ help 
ye whin th’ subscription list wint wild, be sure we 
think as much iv ye as we did whin ye’er name 
was first mintioned be th’ stanch an’ faithful press. 
Set here, ol’ la-ad, an’ warrum ye’er toes by th’ fire. 
Set here an’ r-rest fr’m th’ gratichood iv ye’er fel- 
low-counthrymen, that, as Shakspere says, biteth 
like an asp an’ stingeth like an adder. R-rest here 
as ye might r-rest at th’ hearth iv millyons iv peo- 
ple that cud give ye no house but their own ! ” 

“ I dinnaw about that,” said Mr. Hennessy. “ I 
like Dewey, but I think he oughtn’t to’ve give 
away th’ gift iv th’ nation.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Dooley, “if’twas a crime f’r 
an American citizen to have his property in his 
wife’s name they’d be close quarthers in th’ pin- 
itinchry.” 


[ l 4° ] 


MARRIAGE AND 
POLITICS 

SEE,” said Mr. Hennessy, “ that wan iv 
thim New York joods says a man in 
pollytics oughtn’t to be marrid.” 

“Oh, does he?” said Mr. Dooley. 
“Well, ’tis little he knows about it. A man in 
pollytics has got to be marrid. If he ain’t marrid 
where’ll he go f’r another kind iv throuble ? An* 
where’ll he find people to support ? An unmarrid 
man don’t get along in pollytics because he don’t 
need th’ money. Whin he’s in th’ middle iv a 
prim’ry, with maybe twinty or thirty iv th’ opposite 
party on top iv him, thinks he to himsilf : 6 What’s 
th’ good iv fightin’ f’r a job ? They’se no wan de- 
pindant on me f’r support,’ an’ he surrinders. But 
a marrid man says : 6 What’ll happen to me wife 
an’ twelve small childher if I don’t win out here to- 
day ? * an’ he bites his way to th’ top iv th’ pile an’ 

[ ‘ 4 1 ] 



MARRIAGE AND POLITICS 

breaks open th’ ballot box f’r home and fireside. 
That’s th’ thruth iv it, Hinnissy. Ye’ll find all th’ 
big jobs held be marrid men an’ all th’ timpry 
clerkships be bachelors. 

“ Th’ reason th’ New York jood thinks marrid 
men oughtn’t to be in pollytics is because he thinks 
pollytics is spoort. An’ so it is. But it ain’t ama- 
choor spoort, Hinnissy. They don’t give ye a pew- 
ter mug with ye’er name on it f ’ r takin’ a chanst on 
bein’ kilt. ’Tis a profissional spoort, like playin’ 
base-ball f’r a livin’ or wheelin’ a thruck. Ye niver 
see an amachoor at annything that was as good as 
a profissional. Th’ best amachoor ball team is beat 
be a bad profissional team ; a profissional boxer 
that thrains on bock beer an’ Swiss cheese can lam 
the head off a goold medal amachoor champeen 
that’s been atin’ moldy bread an’ dhrinkin’ wather 
f’r six months, an’ th’ Dago that blows th’ cornet 
on th’ sthreet f’r what annywan ’ll throw him 
can cut the figure eight around Dinnis Finn, that’s 
been takin’ lessons f’r twinty year. No, sir, polly- 
tics ain’t dhroppin’ into tea, an’ it ain’t wurrukin a 
scroll saw, or makin’ a garden in a back yard. ’Tis 
gettin’ up at six o’clock in th’ mornin’ an’ r-rushin’ 
off to wurruk, an’ cornin’ home at night tired an’ 
dusty. Double wages f’r overtime an’ Sundahs. 

[ * 42 ] 


MARRIAGE AND POLITICS 

“ So a man’s got to be marrid to do it well. 
He’s got to have a wife at home to make him on- 
comfortable it he comes in dhrunk, he’s got to have 
little prattlin’ childher that he can’t sind to th’ 
Young Ladies’ academy onless he stuffs a ballot- 
box properly, an’ he’s got to have a sthrong desire 
t’r to live in th’ av’noo an’ be seen dhrivin’ down- 



town in an open carredge with his wife settin’ be- 
side him undher a r-red parasol. If he hasn’t these 
things he won’t succeed in pollytics — or packin’ 
pork. Ye niver see a big man in pollytics that 
dhrank hard, did ye^ Ye never will. An’ that’s 
because they’re all marrid. Th’ timptation’s sthrong, 
but fear is sthronger. 

“Th’ most domestic men in th’ wurruld ar-re 

[ > 43 ] 


MARRIAGE AND POLITICS 


politicians, an’ they always marry early. An’ that’s 
th’ sad part iv it, Hinnissy. A pollytician always 
marries above his own station. That’s wan sign 
that he’ll be a successful pollytician. Th’ throuble 
is, th’ good woman stays planted just where she 
was, an’ he goes by like a fast thrain by a whistlin’ 
station. D’ye mind O’Leary, him that’s a retired 
capitalist now, him that was aldherman, an’ dhrain- 
age thrustee, an’ state sinitor f’r wan term? Well, 
whin I first knew O’Leary he wurruked down on 
a railroad section tampin’ th’ thrack at wan-fifty a 
day. He was a sthrong, willin’ young fellow, with 
a stiff right-hand punch an’ a schamin’ brain, an’ 
anny wan cud see that he was intinded to go to th’ 
fr-ront. Th’ aristocracy iv th’ camp was Mrs. Cas- 
sidy, th’ widdy lady that kept th’ boordin’-house. 
Aristocracy, Hinnissy, is like rale estate, a matther 
iv location. I’m aristocracy to th’ poor O’Briens 
back in th’ alley, th’ brewery agent’s aristocracy to 
me, his boss is aristocracy to him, an’ so it goes, up 
to the czar of Rooshia. He’s th’ pick iv th’ bunch, 
th’ high man iv all, th’ Pope not goin’ in society. 
Well, Mrs. Cassidy was aristocracy to O’Leary. 
He niver see such a stylish woman as she was whin 
she turned out iv a Sundah afthernoon in her horse 
an’ buggy. He’d think to himsilf, ‘ If I iver can 

[ 144] 


MARRIAGE AND POLITICS 


win that I’m settled f’r life,’ an’ iv coorse he did. 
‘Twas a gran’ weddin’; manny iv th’ guests didn’t 
show up at wurruk f’r weeks. 

“ O’Leary done well, an’ she was a good wife to 
him. She made money an’ kept him sthraight an’ 
started him for constable. He won out, bein’ a 
sthrong man. Thin she got him to r-run f’r aldher- 
man, an’ ye shud’ve seen her th’ night he was in- 
augurated ! Be hivins, Hinnissy, she looked like 
a fire in a pawnshop, fair covered with dimons an’ 
goold watches an’ chains. She was cut out to be 
an aldherman’s wife, and it was worth goin’ miles to 
watch her leadin’ th’ gran’ march at th’ Ar-rchy 
Road Dimmycratic Fife an’ Dhrum Corps ball. 

“ But there she stopped. A good woman an’ a 
kind wan, she cudden’t go th’ distance. She had 
th’ house an’ th’ childher to care f’r an’ her eddy- 
cation was through with. They isn’t much a 
woman can learn afther she begins to raise a fam’ly. 
But with O’Leary ’twas different. I say ’twas dif- 
ferent with O’Leary. Ye talk about ye’er colleges, 
Hinnissy, but pollytics is th’ poor man’s college. 
A la-ad without enough book lamin’ to r-read a 
meal-ticket, if ye give him tin years iv polly-tical 
life, has th’ air iv a statesman an’ th’ manner iv a 
jook, an’ cud take anny job fr’m dalin’ faro bank to 

[ H5 ] 


MARRIAGE AND POLITICS 


r-runnin th’ threasury iv th’ United States. His 
business brings him up again’ th’ best men iv th’ 
com-munity, an’ their customs an’ ways iv speakin’ 
an’ thinkin’ an robbin’ sticks to him. Th’ good 
woman is at home all day. Th’ on’y people she 
sees is th’ childher an’ th’ neighbors. While th’ 
good man in a swallow-tail coat is addhressin’ th’ 
Commercial club on what we shud do f ’r to reform 
pollytics, she’s discussin’ th’ price iv groceries with 
th’ plumber’s wife an’ talkin’ over th’ back fince to 
the milkman. Thin O’Leary moves up on th’ 
boolyvard. He knows he’ll get along all r-right 
on th’ boolyvard. Th’ men’ll say : 6 They’se a good 
deal of rugged common sinse in that O’Leary. 
He may be a robber, but they’s mighty little that 
escapes him.’ But no wan speaks to Mrs. O’Leary. 
No wan asts her opinion about our foreign policy. 
She sets day in an’ day out behind th’ dhrawn cur- 
tains iv her three-story brownstone risidence prayin’ 
that somewan’ll come in an’ see her, an if annywan 
comes she’s frozen with fear. An’ ’tis on’y whin she 
slips out to Ar-rchey r-road an’ finds th’ plumber’s 
wife, an’ sets in th’ kitchen over a cup iv tay, that 
peace comes to her. By an’ by they offer O’Leary 
th’ nommynation f ’r congress. He knows he’s fit 
for it. He’s sthronger thin th’ young lawyer they 
[i 4 6] 


MARRIAGE AND POLITICS 


have now. People’ll listen to him in Wash’nton 
as they do in Chicago. He says : 4 I’ll take it.’ 
An’ thin he thinks iv th’ wife an’ they’s no Wash- 
’nton f’r him. His pollytical career is over. He 
wud niver have been constable if he hadn’t marrid, 
but he might have been sinitor if he was a widower. 

“Mrs. O’Leary was in to see th’ Dargans th’ 
other day. 4 Ye mus’ be very happy in ye’er gran’ 
house, with Mr. O’Leary doin’ so well,’ says Mrs. 
Dargan. An’ th’ on’y answer th’ foolish woman 
give was to break down an’ weep on Mrs. Dargan’s 
neck.” 

44 Yet ye say a pollytician oughtn’t to get mar- 
rid,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“Up to a certain point,” said Mr. Dooley, 44 he 
must be marrid. Afther that — well, I on’y say 
that, though pollytics is a gran’ career t’r a man, 
’tis a tough wan f’r his wife.” 


[ > 47 ] 









ALCOHOL AS FOOD 


F a man come into this saloon — ” Mr. 
Hennessy was saying. 

“ This ain’t no saloon,” Mr. Dooley 
interrupted. “ This is a resthrant.” 

“ A what *? ” Mr. Hennessy exclaimed. 

“A resthrant,” said Mr. Dooley. 44 Ye don’t 
know, Hinnissy, that liquor is food. It is though. 
Food — an’ dhrink. That’s what a doctor says in 
the pa-apers, an’ another doctor wants th’ gover’mint 
to sind tubs iv th’ stuff down to th’ Ph’lipeens. 
He says ’tis almost issintial that people shud dhrink 
in thim hot climates. Th’ prespiration don’t dhry 
on thim afther a hard pursoot iv Aggynaldoo an’ th’ 
capture iv Gin’ral Pantaloons de Garshy; they be- 
gin to think iv home an’ mother sindin’ down th’ 
lawn-sprinkler to be filled with bock, an’ they go off 
somewhere, an’ not bein’ able to dhry thimsilves 
with dhrink, they want to die. Th’ disease is called 
nostalgia or home-sickness, or thirst.” 

[149] 



ALCOHOL AS FOOD 


“ 4 What we want to do f ’r our sojer boys in th’ 
Ph’lipeens besides killin’ thim,’ says th’ ar-rmy sur- 
geon, 4 is make th’ place more homelike,’ he says. 
‘Manny iv our heroes hasn’t had th’ deleeryum 
thremens since we first planted th’ stars an’ sthripes,’ 
he says, ‘an’ th’ bay’nits among th’ people,’ he 
says. 4 1 wud be in favor iv havin’ th’ rigimints 
get their feet round wanst a week, at laste,’ he says. 

4 Lave us,’ he says, 4 reform th’ reflations,’ he says, 

4 an’ insthruct our sojers to keep their powdher dhry 
an’ their whistles wet,’ he says. 

44 Th’ idee ought to take, Hinnissy, f ’r th’ other 
doctor la-ad has discovered that liquor is food. 4 A 
man,’ says he, ‘can live f’r months on a little booze 
taken fr’m time to time,’ he says 4 They’se a gr-reat 
dale iv nourishment in it,’ he says. An’ I believe 
him, f’r manny’s th’ man I know that don’t think 
iv eatin’ whin he can get a dhrink. I wondher if 
the time will iver come whin ye’ll see a man sneak- 
in’ out iv th’ fam’ly enthrance iv a lunch-room hur- 
ridly bitin’ a clove ! People may get so they’ll 
carry a light dinner iv a pint iv rye down to their 
wurruk, an’ a man’ll tell ye he niver takes more thin 
a bottle iv beer f’r breakfast. Th’ cook ’ll give way 
to th’ bartinder and th’ doctor ’ll ordher people f’r to 
ate on’y at meals. Y e’ll r-read in th’ pa-apers that 
[150] 


ALCOHOL AS FOOD 


4 Anton Boozinski, while crazed with ham an’ eggs, 
thried to kill his wife an’ childher.’ On Pathrick’s 
day ye’ll see th’ Dr. Tanner Anti-Food Fife an’ 
Drum corpse out at th’ head iv th’ procession instead 
iv th’ Father Macchews, an’ they’ll be places where 
a man can be took whin he gets th’ monkeys fr’m 
immodhrate eatin’. Th’ sojers ’ll complain that th' 
liquor was unfit to dhrink an’ they’ll be inquiries to 



find out who sold embammin’ flood to th’ ar-rmy. 
Poor people ’ll have simple meals — p’raps a bucket 
iv beer an’ a little crame de mint, an’ ye’ll r-read in 
th’ pa-apers about a family found starvin’ on th’ 
North side, with nawthin’ to sustain life but wan 
small bottle iv gin, while th’ head iv th’ family, a 
man well known to the polis, spinds his wages in a 

[151] 


ALCOHOL AS FOOD 


low doggery or bakeshop fuddlin’ his brains with 
custard pie. Th’ r-rich ’ll inthrajoose novelties. 
P’raps they’ll top off a fine dinner with a little 
hasheesh or proosic acid. Th’ time’ll come whin 
ye’ll see me in a white cap fryin’ a cocktail over a 
cooksthove, while a nigger hollers to me : 6 Dhraw a 
stack iv Scotch,’ an’ I holler back : 4 On th’ fire.’ 

Ye will not.” 

“ That’s what I thought,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“No,” said Mr. Dooley. “Whisky wudden’t be 
so much iv a luxury if ’twas more iv a necissity. I 
don’t believe ’tis a food, though whin me frind 
Schwartzmeister makes a cocktail all it needs is a 
few noodles to look like a biled dinner. No, whisky 
ain’t food. I think betther iv it thin that. I wud- 
den’t insult it be placin’ it on th’ same low plane as 
a lobster salad. Father Kelly puts it r-right, and 
years go by without him lookin’ on it even at Hal- 
lowe’en. 6 Whisky,’ says he, 6 is called the divvle, 
because,’ he says, 4 ’tis wan iv the fallen angels,’ he 
says. ‘ It has its place,’ he says, 4 but its place is not 
in a man’s head,’ says he. 4 It ought to be th’ re- 
ward iv action, not th’ cause iv it,’ he says. 4 It’s f ’r 
th’ end iv th’ day, not th’ beginnin’,’ he says. 4 Hot 
whisky is good f’r a cold heart, an’ no whisky’s 
good f’r a hot head,’ he says. 4 Th’ minyit a man 

[ > 5 2 ] 


ALCOHOL AS FOOD 


relies on it f ’r a crutch he loses th’ use iv his legs. 
’Tis a bad thing to stand on, a good thing to sleep 
on, a good thing to talk on, a bad thing to think 
on. If it’s in th’ head in th’ mornin’ it ought not to 
be in th’ mouth at night. If it laughs in ye, dhrink ; 
if it weeps, swear off. It makes some men talk like 
good women, an’ some women talk like bad men. It 
is a livin’ f ’r orators an’ th’ death iv bookkeepers. 
It doesn’t sustain life, but, whin taken hot with 
wather, a lump iv sugar, a piece iv lemon peel, and 
just th’ dustin’ iv a nutmeg-grater, it makes life sus- 
tainable.” 

“ D’ye think ye-ersilf it sustains life ? ” asked Mr. 
Hennessy. 

“ It has sustained mine f ’r many years,” said Mr. 
Dooley. 


[' 53 ] 



HIGH FINANCE 

THINK,” said Mr. Dooley, “I’ll go 
down to th’ stock yards an’ buy a 
dhrove iv Steel an’ Wire stock.” 

“Where wud ye keep it*?” asked 
the unsuspecting Hennessy. 

“ I’ll put it out on th’ vacant lot,” said Mr. Doo- 
ley, “ an’ lave it grow fat by atin’ oY bur-rd cages 
an’ tin cans. I’ll milk it hard, an’ whin ’tis dhry 
I’ll dispose iv it to th’ widdies an’ orphans iv th’ 
Sixth Ward that need household pets. Be hivins, 
if they give me half a chanst, I’ll be as gr-reat a 
fi-nanceer as anny man in W all sthreet. 

“ Th’ reason I’m so confident iv th’ value iv Steel 
an’ Wire stock, Hinnissy, is they’re goin’ to hur-rl 
th’ chairman iv th’ comity into jail. That’s what 
th’ pa-apers calls a ray iv hope in th’ clouds iv di- 
pression that’ve covered th’ market so long. ’Tis 
always a bull argymint. ‘ Snowplows common 

[ 155 j 



HIGH FINANCE 


was up two pints this mornin’ on th’ rumor that th’ 
prisidint was undher ar-rest.’ 4 They was a gr-reat 
bulge in Lobster preferred caused be th’ report that 
instead iv declarin’ a dividend iv three hundhred 
per cint. th’ comp’ny was preparin’ to imprison th’ 
boord iv directors.’ ‘Westhrongly ricommind th’ 
purchase iv Con and Founder. This comp’ny is in 
ixcillint condition since th’ hangin’ iv th’ comity on 
reorganization.’ 

“What’s th’ la-ad been doin’, Hinnissy*? He’s 
been lettin’ his frinds in on th’ groun’ flure — an’ 
dhroppin’ thim into th’ cellar. Ye know Cassidy, 
over in th’ Fifth, him that was in th’ ligislachure 
Well, sir, he was a gr-reat frind iv this man. They 
met down in Springfield whin th’ la-ad had some- 
thing he wanted to get through that wud protect 
th’ widdies an’ orphans iv th’ counthry again their 
own avarice, an’ he must’ve handed Cassidy a good 
argymint, f’r Cassidy voted f’r th’ bill, though 
threatened with lynchin’ be stockholders iv th’ 
rival comp’ny. He come back here so covered 
with dimons that wan night whin he was standin’ 
on th’ rollin’ mill dock, th’ captain iv th’ Eliza 
Brown mistook his shirt front f’r th’ bridge lights 
an’ steered into a soap facthry on th’ lee or gas-house 
shore. 


[* 56 ] 


HIGH FINANCE 


“ Th’ man made a sthrong impression on Cas- 
sidy. ’Twas : 6 As me frind Jawn says/ or 4 I’ll ask 
Jawn about that,’ or 4 I’m goin’ downtown to-day 
to find out what Jawn advises.’ He used to play a 
dollar on th’ horses or sivin-up f ’r th’ dhrinks, but 
afther he met Jawn he wanted me to put in a tick- 
er, an’ he wud set in here figurin’ with a piece iv 
chalk on how high Wire’d go if hoopskirts come 
into fashion again. 4 Give me a dhrop iv whisky,’ 
he says, 4 f ’r I’m inthrested in Distillers,’ he says, 
4 an’ I’d like to give it a shove,’ he says. 4 How’s 
Gas?’ he says. 4 A little weak, to-day,’ says I. 
‘’Twill be sthronger,’ he says. 4 If it ain’t,’ says I, 
4 I’ll take out th’ meter an’ connect th’ pipe with th’ 
ventilator. I might as well bur-rn th’ wind free as 
buy it,’ I says. 

“A couple iv weeks ago he see Jawn an’ they 
had a long talk about it. 4 Cassidy,’ says Jawn, 
4 ye’ve been a good frind iv mine,’ he says, an’ I’d 
do annything in the wurruld t’r ye, no matther what 
it cost ye,’ he says. 4 If ye need a little money to 
tide over th’ har-rd times till th’ ligislachure meets 
again buy ’ — an’ he whispered in Cassidy’s ear. 
4 But,’ he says, 4 don’t tell annywan. ’Tis a good 
thing, but I want to keep it bottled up,’ he says. 

44 Thin Jawn took th’ thrain an’ begun confidin’ 

[ !57 ] 


HIGH FINANCE 

his secret to a few select frinds. He give it to th’ 
conductor on th’ thrain, an’ th’ porther, an’ th’ can- 
dy butcher ; he handed it to a switchman that got 
on th’ platform at South Bend, an’ he stopped off 
at Detroit long enough to tell about it to the deepo’ 
policeman. He had a sign painted with th’ tip on 
it an’ hung it out th’ window, an’ he found a man 
that carrid a thrombone in a band goin’ over to 
Buffalo, an’ he had him set th’ good thing to music 
an’ play it through th’ thrain. Whin he got to 
New York he stopped at the Waldorf Asthoria, an’ 
while th’ barber was powdhrin’ his face with groun’ 
dimons Jawn toY him to take th’ money he was 
goin’ to buy a policy ticket with an’ get in on th’ 
good thing. He tol’ th’ bootblack, th’ waiter, th’ 
man at th’ news-stand, th’ clerk behind th’ desk, an’ 
th’ bartinder in his humble abode. He got up a 
stereopticon show with pitchers iv a widow-an-or- 
phan befure an’ afther wirin’, an’ he put an adver- 
tisement in all th’ pa-apers tellin’ how his stock wud 
make weak men sthrong. He had th’ tip sarved 
hot in all th’ resthrants in Wall sthreet, an’ told it 
confidintially to an open-air meetin’ in Madison 
Square. ‘ They’se nawthin,’ he says, ‘ that does a 
tip so much good as to give it circulation,’ he says. 
‘ I think, be this time,’ he says, ‘ all me frinds 

[158] 


HIGH FINANCE 


knows how to proceed, but — Great Hivins ! ’ he 
says. 4 What have I done ? Whin all the poor 
people go to get th’ stock they won’t be anny f ’r 
thim. I can not lave thim thus in th’ lurch. Me 
reputation as a gintleman an’ a fi-nanceer is at 
stake,’ he says. 4 Rather than see these brave peo- 
ple starvin’ at th’ dure f ’r a morsel iv common or 
preferred, I’ll — I’ll sell thim me own stock,’ he says. 
An’ he done it. He done it, Hinnissy, with un- 
falthrin’ courage an’ a clear eye. He sold thim his 
stock, an’ so’s they might get what was left at a 
raysonable price, he wrote a confidintial note to th’ 
pa-apers tellin’ thim th’ stock wasn’t worth thirty 
cints a cord, an’ now, be hivins, they’re talkin’ iv 
puttin’ him in a common jail or pinitinchry pre- 
ferred. Th’ ingratichood iv man.” 

“But what about Cassidy?” Mr. Hennessy 
asked. 

44 Oh,” said Mr. Dooley, “ he was in here las’ 
night. 4 How’s our old frind Jawn?’ says I. 
He said nawthin’. 4 Have ye seen ye’er collidge 
chum iv late?’ says I. ‘Don’t mintion that ma-an’s 
name,’ says he. 4 To think iv what I’ve done f’r 
him,’ he says, 4 an’ him to throw me down,’ he 
says. 4 Did ye play th’ tip ? ’ says I. ‘ I did,’ 
says he. 4 How did ye come out ? ’ says I. 4 1 

[159] 


HIGH FINANCE 


haven’t a cint lift but me renommynation f ’r th* 
ligislachure,’ says he. 4 Well,’ says I, 4 Cassidy,’ I 
says, 4 ye’ve been up again what th’ pa-apers call 
hawt finance,’ I says. 4 What th’ divvle’s that ? ’ 
says he. ‘ Well,’ says I, ‘ it ain’t burglary, an’ it 
ain’t obtainin’ money be false pretinses, an’ it 
ain’t manslaughter,’ I says. ‘ It’s what ye might 
call a judicious seliction fr’m th’ best features iv 
thim ar-rts,’ I says. 4 T’was too sthrong f ’r me,’ he 
says. 4 It was,’ says I. 4 Ye’re about up to simple 
thransom climbin’, Cassidy,’ I says.” 


[ !6o] 


THE PARIS EXPOSI- 
TION 


F this r-rush iv people to th’ Paris expo- 
sition keeps up,” said Mr. Hennessy, 
“ they won’t be enough left here f ’r to 
ilict a prisidint.” 

“ They’ll be enough left,” said Mr. Dooley. 
“ There always is. No wan has gone fr’m Ar- 
rchey r-road, where th’ voters ar-re made. I’ve 
looked ar-round ivry mornin’ expectin’ to miss 
some familyar faces. I thought Dorgan, th’ plum- 
ber, wud go sure, but he give it up at th’ las’ mo- 
ment, an’ will spind his summer on th’ dhrainage 
canal. Th’ baseball season ’ll keep a good manny 
others back, an’ a number iv riprisintative cit’zens 
who have stock or jobs in th’ wire mills have de- 
cided that ’tis much betther to inthrust their savin’s 
to John W. Gates thin to blow thim in again th’ 
sthreets iv Cairo. 



[!6l] 


THE PARIS EXPOSITION 


“ But takin’ it by an’ large ’twill be a hard winter 
f’r th’ r-rich. Manny iv thim will have money 
enough f’r to return, but they’ll be much sufferin’ 
among thim. I ixpict to have people dhroppin’ in 
here nex’ fall with subscription books f’r th’ survi- 
vors iv th’ Paris exhibition. Th’ women down be 
th’ rollin’ mills ’ll be sewin’ flannels f’r th’ dis- 
tressed millyonaires, an’ whin th’ childher kick 
about th’ food ye’ll say, Hinnissy, ‘Just think iv th’ 
poor wretches in th’ Lake Shore dhrive an’ thank 
Gawd f’r what ye have.’ Th’ mayor ’ll open soup 
kitchens where th’ unforchnit people can come an’ 
get a hearty meal an’ watch th’ ticker, an’ whin th’ 
season grows hard, ye’ll see pinched an’ hungry plu- 
tocrats thrampin’ th’ sthreets with signs r-readin’: 
‘ Give us a cold bottle or we perish.’ Perhaps th’ 
polis ’ll charge thim an’ bust in their stovepipe hats, 
th’ prisidint ’ll sind th’ ar-rmy here, a conspiracy ’ll 
be discovered at th’ club to blow up th’ poorhouse, 
an’ volunteers ’ll be called on fr’m th’ nickel bed 
houses to protect th’ vested inthrests iv established 
poverty. 

“’Twill be a chanst f’r us to get even, Hinnissy. 
I’m goin’ to organize th’ Return Visitin’ Nurses’ 
association, composed entirely iv victims iv th’ par- 
ent plant. ’Twill be worth lookin’ at to see th’ 
[162] 


THE PARIS EXPOSITION 


ladies fr’m th’ stock yards r-rushin’ into some 
wretched home down in Peerary avenue, grabbin’ 
th’ misthress iv th’ house be th’ shouldhers an’ mak- 
in’ her change her onhealthy silk dhress f’r a pink 
wrapper, shovelin’ in a little ashes to sprinkle on th’ 
flure, breakin’ th’ furniture an’ rollin’ th’ baby in th’ 
coal box. What th’ r-rich needs is intilligint attin- 



tion. ‘ Don’t ate that oatmeal. Fry a nice piece iv 
r-round steak with onions, give th’ baby th’ bone to 
play with, an’ sind Lucille Ernestine acrost th’ rail- 
road thrack f’r a nickel’s worth iv beer. Thin ye’ll 
be happy, me good woman.’ Oh, ’twill be gran’. 
I won’t give annything to people that come to th’ 
dure. More har-m is done be indiscriminate charity 

[ l6 3] 


THE PARIS EXPOSITION 


than anny wan knows, Hinnissy. Half th’ bankers 
that ’ll come to ye-er kitchen nex’ winter cud find 
plenty iv wurruk to do if they really wanted it. 
Dhrink an’ idleness is th’ curse iv th’ class. If they 
come to me I’ll sind thim to th’ Paris Survivors’ 
Mechanical Relief Association, an’ they can go 
down an’ set on a cake iv ice an’ wait till th’ man in 
charge finds thim a job managin’ a diamond mine.” 

Mr. Hennessy dismissed Mr. Dooley’s fancy 
sketch with a grin and remarked : “ These here ex- 
positions is a gran’ thing f’r th’ progress iv th’ wur- 
ruld.” 

“Ye r-read that in th’ pa-apers,” said Mr. Dooley, 
“an’ it isn’t so. Put it down fr’m me, Hinnissy, 
that all expositions is a blind f’r th’ hootchy-kootchy 
dance. They’ll be some gr-reat exhibits at th’ Paris 
fair. Th’ man that has a machine that ’ll tur-rn out 
three hundhred thousan’ toothpicks ivry minyit ’ll 
sind over his inthrestin’ device, they’ll be mountains 
iv infant food an’ canned prunes, an’ pickle casters, 
an’ pants, an’ boots, an’ shoes an’ paintin’s. They’ll 
be all th’ wondhers iv modhern science. Ye can 
see how shirts ar-re made, an’ what gives life to th’ 
sody fountain. Th’ man that makes th’ glue that 
binds ’ll be wearin’ more medals thin an officer iv 
th’ English ar-rmy or a cinchry bicycle rider, an’ 
[164] ' 


THE PARIS EXPOSITION 

years afther whin ye see a box iv soap ye’ll think 
iv th’ manufacthrer standin’ up befure a hundhred 
thousan’ frinzied Fr-rinchmen in th’ Boss du Bo- 
loney while th’ prisidint iv th’ Fr-rinch places a 
goold wreath on his fair brow an’ says : 1 In th’ 
name iv th’ ar-rts an’ science, undher th’ motto iv 
our people, “ Libertinity, insanity, an’ frugality,” I 
crown ye th’ champeen soapmaker iv th’ wurruld. 
[Cheers.] Be ye’er magnificint invintion ye have 
dhrawn closer th’ ties between Paris an’ Goshen, 
Indyanny [frantic applause], which I hope will 
niver be washed away. I wish ye much success as 
ye climb th’ lather iv fame.’ Th’ invintor is thin 
dhrawn ar-roun’ th’ sthreets iv Paris in a chariot 
pulled be eight white horses amid cries iv ‘Veev 
Higgins,’ 4 Abase Castile,’ et cethra, fr’m th’ popu- 
lace. An’ manny a heart beats proud in Goshen 
that night. That’s th’ way ye think iv it, but it 
happens diff’rent, Hinnissy. Th’ soap king, th’ 
prune king, an’ th’ porous plaster king fr’m here 
won’t stir up anny tumult in Paris this year. Th’ 
chances ar-re th’ prisidint won’t know they’re there, 
an’ no wan ’ll speak to thim but a cab dhriver, an’ 
he’ll say : ‘ Th’ fare fr’m th’ Changs All Easy to th’ 
Roo de Roo is eighteen thousan’ francs, but I’ll 
take ye there f ’r what ye have in ye-er pockets ’ 

[165] 


THE PARIS EXPOSITION 


“ The millyonaire that goes over there to see th* 
piled up riches iv th’ wurruld in sausage-makin’ ’ll 
take a look ar-round him an’ he’ll say to th’ first po~ 
lisman he meets : ‘ Gossoon, this is a fine show an* 
I know yon palace is full to th’ seams with chiny- 
ware an’ washtubs, but wud ye be so kind, mong 
brav’, as to p’int out with ye-er club th’ partic’- 
lar house where th’ houris fr’m th’ sultan’s harem 
dances so well without the aid iv th’ human feet ? ’ 
I know how it was whin we had th’ fair here. I 
had th’ best intintions in th’ wurruld to find out 
what I ought to have larned fr’m me frind Armour, 
how with th’ aid iv Gawdgiven machinery ye can 
make a bedstead, a pianola, a dozen whisk-brooms, 
a barrel iv sour mash whisky, a suit iv clothes, a 
lamp chimbly, a wig, a can iv gunpowdher, a bah’rl 
iv nails, a prisidintial platform, an’ a bur-rdcage out 
iv what remains iv th’ cow — I was detarmined to 
probe into th’ wondhers iv science, an’ I started fair 
f’r th’ machinery hall. Where did I bring up, 
says ye? In th’ fr-ront seat iv a playhouse with 
me eye glued on a lady iv th’ sultan’s coort, near 
Brooklyn bridge, thryin’ to twisht out iv hersilf. 

“No, Hinnissy, they’ll be manny things larned 
be Americans that goes to Paris, but they won’t be 
about th’ convarsion iv boots into food, or vicey 
[• 66 ] 


THE PARIS EXPOSITION 


varsa, as Hogan says. An’ that’s r-right. If I wint 
over there ’tis little time I’d be spindin’ thryin’ to 
discover how th’ wondhers iv mechanical janius are 
projooced that makes livin’ so much more healthy 
an’ oncomfortable. But whin I got to Paris I’d 
hire me a hack or a dhray painted r-red, an’ I’d put 
me feet out th’ sides an’ I’d say to th’ dhriver: 
4 Rivolutionist, pint ye-er horse’s head to’rds th’ 
home iv th’ skirt dance, hit him smartly, an’ go to 
sleep. I will see th’ snow-plow show an’ th’ den- 
tisthry wurruk in th’ pa-apers. F’r th’ prisint I’ll 
devote me attintion to makin’ a noise in th’ sthreets 
an’ studyin’ human nature.’ ” 

64 Ye’d be a lively ol’ buck over there,” said Mr. 
Hennessy, admiringly. 44 ’Tis a good thing ye 
can’t go.” 

44 It is so,” said Mr. Dooley. 44 I’m glad I have 
no millyonaire rilitives to be depindent on me f’r 
support whin th’ show’s over.” 


[ l6 7] 



CHRISTIAN JOUR- 
NALISM 


SEE,” said Mr. Dooley, “that th’ la-ad out 
in Kansas that thried to r-run a paper 
like what th’ Lord wud r-run if he had 
lived in Topeka, has thrun up th’ job.” 

“ Sure, I niver heerd iv him,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“Well, ’twus this way with him,” Mr. Dooley 
explained. “Ye see, he didn’t like th’ looks iv th’ 
newspapers. He got tired iv r-readin’ how many 
rows iv plaits Mrs. Potther Pammer had on th’ las’ 
dhress she bought, an’ whether McGovern oughtn’t 
to go into th’ heavy-weight class an’ fight Jeffries, 
an’ he says, says th’ la-ad, 6 This is no right readin’ 
f’r th’ pure an’ passionless youth iv Kansas,’ he says. 
4 Give me,’ he says, 4 a chanst an’ I’ll projooce th’ 
kind iv organ that’d be got out in hiven,’ he says, 
4 price five cints a copy,’ he says, 4 f’r sale be all 

[169] 



CHRISTIAN JOURNALISM 


newsdealers ; f’r advertisin’ rates consult th’ cashier,’ 
he says. So a man in Topeka that had a newspaper, 
he says : 6 1 will not be behindhand,’ he says, ‘ in 
histin’ Kansas up fr’m its prisint low an’ irrellijous 
position,’ he says. 4 I don’t know how th’ inhabi- 
tants iv th’ place ye refer to is fixed,’ he says, 4 f’r 
newspapers,’ he says, 4 an’ I niver heerd iv annybody 
fr’m Kansas home-stakin’ there,’ he says, ‘ but if ye’ll 
attind to th’ circulation iv thim parts,’ he says, 4 I’ll 
see that th’ paper is properly placed in th’ hands iv 
th’ vile an’ wicked iv this earth, where,’ he says, 4 th’ 
returns ar-re more quick,’ he says. 

44 W ell, th’ la-ad wint at it, an’ ’twas a fine paper 
he made. Hogan was in here th’ other day with a 
copy iv it an’ I r-read it. I haven’t had such a 
lithry threat since I was a watchman on th’ canal 
f’r a week with nawthin’ to r-read but th’ delinquent 
tax list an’ the upper half iv a weather map. ’Twas 
gran’. Th’ editor, it seems, Hinnissy, wint into th’ 
editoryal rooms iv th’ pa-aper an’ he gathered th’ 
force around him fr’m their reg’lar jobs in th’ dhrug 
stores, an’ says he, 4 Gintlemen,’ he says, 4 tell me 
ye’er plans f’r to enoble this here Christyan publica- 
tion f’r to-day!’ he says. ‘Well,’ says th’ horse 
rayporther, 4 they’s a couple iv rabbits goin’ to sprint 
around th’ thrack at th’ fair groun’s,’ he says. I 

[ * 7 ° ] 


CHRISTIAN JOURNALISM 


think ’twud be a good thing f’r rellijon if ye’d lind 
me tin that I might br-reak th’ sin-thralled bookys 
that come down here fr’m Kansas City f’r to skin 
th’ righteous,’ he says. 4 No,’ says th’ editor, he 
says, ‘ no horse racin’ in this paper,’ he says. 1 ’Tis 
th’ roonation iv th’ young, an’ ye can’t beat it,’ he 
says. 4 An’ you, fair-haired youth,’ he says, 4 what 
d’ye do that makes ye’er color so good an’ ye’er eye 
so bright ? ’ 4 1,’ says th’ la-ad, 4 am th’ boy that 
writes th’ fightin’ dope,’ he says. 4 They’se a couple 
iv good wans on at th’ op’ra house to-night, an’ if 
his Spiklets don’t tin-can ’tis like findin’ money in 
an oF coat that — ’ 4 Fightin’,’ says th’ editor, 4 is a 
crool an’ onchristyan spoort,’ he says. 4 Instead iv 
chroniclin’ th’ ruffyanism iv these misguided wretches 
that weigh in at th’ ringside at 125* poun’s, an’ I see 
in a pa-aper I r-read in a barber shop th’ other day 
that Spike’s gone away back — what’s that I’m say- 
in’ ? Niver mind. D’ye go down to th’ home iv 
th’ Rivrind Aloysius Augustus Morninbinch an’ 
interview him on th’ question iv man’s co-operation 
with grace in conversion. Make a nice chatty 
article about it an’ I’ll give ye a copy iv wan iv me 
books.’ 4 1 will,’ says th’ la-ad, 4 if he don’t swing 
on me,’ he says. The editor thin addhressed th’ 
staff. ‘ Gintlemen,’ he says, 4 1 find that th’ wurruk 

[ ] 


CHRISTIAN JOURNALISM 


ye’ve been accustomed to doin’,’ he says, 4 is calc’lated 
f ’r to disthroy th’ morality an’ debase th’ home life 
iv Topeka, not to mintion th’ surroundin’ methro- 
lopuses iv Valencia, Wanamaker, Sugar Works, 
Paxico an’ Snokomo,’ he says. 4 Th’ newspaper, in- 
stead iv bein’ a pow’rful agent f’r th’ salvation iv 
mankind, has become something that they want to 
r-read,’ he says. 4 Y e can all go home,’ he says. 
4 I’ll stay here an’ write th’ paper mesilf,’ he says. 
4 I’m th’ best writer ar-round here, annyhow, an’ I’ll 
give thim something that’ll prepare thim f’r death,’ 
he says. 

44 An’ he did, Hinnissy, he did. ’Twas a gran’ 
paper. They was an article on sewerage an’ wan 
on prayin’ f’r rain, an’ another on muni-cipal owner- 
ship iv gas tanks, an’ wan to show that they niver 
was a good milker ownded be a pro-fane man. 
They was pomes, too, manny iv thim, an’ fine wans : 
4 Th’ Man with th’ Shovel,’ 4 Th’ Man with th’ Pick, 

4 Th’ Man with th’ Cash-Raygisther,’ 4 Th’ Man with 
th’ Snow Plow,’ 4 Th’ Man with th’ Bell Punch,’ 
4 Th’ Man with th’ Skate,’ 4 Th’ Man with No 
Kick Cornin’.’ Fine pothry, th’ editor askin’ who 
pushed this here man’s forehead back an’ planed 
down his chin, who made him wear clothes that 
didn’t fit him and got him a job raisin’ egg-plant 

C !7 2 ] 


CHRISTIAN JOURNALISM 


f’r th’ monno-polists in Topeka at a dollar a day. 
A man in th’ editor’s position ought to know, but 
he didn’t, so he ast in th’ pomes. An’ th’ advertisin’, 
Hinnissy ! I’d be scandalized f’r to go back readin’ 
th’ common advertisin’ in th’ vile daily press about 
men’s pantings, an’ Doesannyoneknowwherelcan- 
geta biscuit, an’ In th’ spring a young man’s fancy 
lightly turns to Pocohontas plug, not made be th’ 
thrusts. Th’ editor left thim sacrilegious advertise- 
ments f’r his venal contimp’raries. His was pious 
an’ nice : 4 Do ye’er smokin’ in this wurruld. Th’ 

Christyan Unity Five-Cint See-gar is made out iv 
th’ finest grades iv excelsior iver projooced in Kan- 
sas!’ 4 Nebuchednezzar grass seed, f’r man an’ 
beast.’ 4 A handful iv meal in a barrel an’ a little ile 
in a curse. Swedenborgian bran fried in kerosene 
makes th’ best breakfast dish in th’ wurruld.’ ’Twus 
nice to r-read. It made a man feel as if he was in 
church — asleep. 

44 How did th’ pa-aper sthrike th’ people ? ” says ye. 
44 Oh, it sthruck thim good. Says th’ Topeka man, 
skinnin’ over th’ gossip about Christyan citizenship 
an’ th’ toolchest iv pothry : 4 Eliza, here’s a good 
paper, a fine wan, f’r ye an’ th’ childher. Sind 
Tommy down to th’ corner an’ get me a copy iv th’ 
Polis Gazette.’ 


[ l 73 ] 


CHRISTIAN JOURNALISM 


“Ye see, Hinnissy, th’ editor wint to th’ wrong 
shop f’r what Hogan calls his inspiration. Father 
Kelly was talkin’ it over with me, an’ says he : 
‘ They ain’t anny news in bein’ good. Ye might 
write th’ doin’s iv all th’ convents iv th’ wurruld on 
th’ back iv a postage stamp, an’ have room to spare. 
Supposin’ ye took out iv a newspaper all th’ mur- 
dhers, an’ suicides, an’ divorces, an elopements, an’ 
fires, an’ disease, an’ war, an’ famine,’ he says, ‘ye 
wudden’t have enough left to keep a man busy 
r-readin’ while he rode ar-roun’ th’ block on th’ 
lightnin’ express. No,’ he says, ‘news is sin an’ sin 
is news, an’ I’m worth on’y a line beginnin’ : 
“ Kelly, at the parish-house, April twinty-sicond, 
in th’ fiftieth year iv his age,” an’ pay f ’r that, while 
Scanlan’s bad boy is good f ’r a column anny time 
he goes dhrunk an’ thries to kill a polisman. A 
rellijious newspaper? None iv thim f’r me. I 
want to know what’s goin’ on among th’ murdher 
an’ burglary set. Did ye r-read it ? ’ he says. ‘ I 
did,’ says I. ‘ What did ye think iv it? ’ says he. 
‘ I know,’ says I, ‘ why more people don’t go to 
church,’ says I.” 


[ >74 ] 


THE ADMIRAL’S 
CANDIDACY 


SEE,” said Mr. Hennessy, “ that Dewey 
is a candydate f’r prisidint.” 

“Well, sir/’ said Mr. Dooley, “I 
hope to hiven he won’t get it. No rili- 
tive iv mine iver held a pollytical job barrin’ mesilf. 
I was precint captain, an’ wan iv th’ best they was in 
thim days, if I do say so that shudden’t. I was 
called Cap f’r manny years aftherward, an’ I’d’ve 
joined th’ Gr-rand Army iv th’ Raypublic if it 
hadn’t been f’r me poor feet. Manny iv me rili- 
tives has been candydates, but they niver cud win 
out again th’ r-rest iv th’ fam’ly. ’Tis so with Cousin 
George. I’m again him. I’ve been a rayspictable 
saloon-keeper f’r forty years in this ward, an’ I’ll not 
have th’ name dhragged into pollytics. 

“ Iv coorse, I don’t blame Cousin George. I’m 

[ x 75] 



THE ADMIRAL’S CANDIDACY 


with him f’r annything else in th’ gift iv th’ people, 
fr’m a lovin’-cup to a house an’ lot. He don’t mean 
annything be it. Did ye iver see a sailor thryin’ to 
ride a horse? ’Tis a comical sight. Th’ reason a 
sailor thries to ride a horse is because he niver r-rode 
wan befure. If he knew annything about it he 
wouldn’t do it. So be Cousin George. Afther he’d 
been over here awhile an’ got so ’twas safe f’r him 
to go out without bein’ torn to pieces f’r soovenirs 
or lynched be a mob, he took a look ar-round him 
an’ says he to a polisman : ‘ What’s th’ governmint 
iv this counthry?’ ’Tis a raypublic,’ says th’ po- 
lisman. 4 What’s th’ main guy called ? ’ says George. 
4 He’s called prisidint,’ says th’ polisman. 4 Is it a 
good job ? ’ says Cousin George. 4 ’Tis betther thin 
thravelin’ beat,’ says th’ bull. 4 What’s th’ la-ad’s 
name that’s holdin’ it now ? ’ says Cousin George. 
4 Mack,’ says th’ cop. 4 Irish ? ’ says George. 4 Cross,’ 
says th’ elbow. 4 Where fr’m ? ’ says George. 4 Ohio,’ 
says the peeler. 4 Where’s that ? ’ says George. 4 1 
dinnaw,’ says th’ bull. An’ they parted th’ best iv 
frinds. 

44 4 Well,’ says George to himsilf, 4 1 guess I’ll 
have to go up an’ have a look at this la-ad’s place,’ 
he says, 4 an’ if it looks good,’ he says, 4 p’raps I cud 
nail it,’ he says. An’ he goes up an’ sees Mack die- 
[i 7 6] 


THE ADMIRALS CANDIDACY 


tatin’ his Porther Rickyan policy to a kinetoscope, 
an’ it looks like a nice employmint f’r a spry man, 
an’ he goes back home an’ sinds f’r a rayporther, an’ 
says he : ‘I always believe since I got home in deal- 
in’ frankly with th’ press. I haven’t seen manny 
papers since I’ve been at sea, but whin I was a boy 
me father used to take the Montpelier Paleejum. 
’Twas r-run be a man be th’ name iv Horse Clam- 



back. He was quite a man whin sober. Ye’ve 
heerd iv him, no doubt. But what I ast ye up here 
f’r was to give ye a item that ye can write up in 
ye’er own way an’ hand to th’ r-rest iv th’ boys. I’m 
goin’ to be prisidint. I like th’ looks iv the job an’, 
nobody seems to care f’r it, an’ I’ve got so blame 
tired since I left th’ ship that if I don’t have some- 
thin’ to do I’ll go crazy,’ he says. ‘ I wisht ye’d 
make a note iv it an’ give it to th’ other papers,’ he 

[ 177] 


THE ADMIRAL'S CANDIDACY 


says. ‘ Ar-re ye a raypublican or a dimmycrat ? ’ 
says the rayporter. 4 What’s that ? ’ says Cousin 
George. ‘ D’ye belong to th’ raypublican or th’ 
dimmycrat party ? ’ ‘ What ar-re they like ? ’ says 

Cousin George. 6 Th’ raypublicans ar-re in favor iv 
expansion.’ 4 Thin I’m a raypublican.’ 4 Th’ dim- 
mycrats ar-re in favor iv free thrade.’ 4 Thin I’m a 
dimmycrat.’ 4 Th’ raypublicans ar-re f’r upholdin’ 
th’ goold standard.’ 4 So’m I. I’m a raypublican 
there.’ 4 An’ they’re opposed to an income tax.’ 
4 On that,’ says Cousin George, 4 I’m a dimmycrat. 
I tell ye, put me down as a dimmycrat. Divvle th’ 
bit I care. Just say I’m a dimmycrat with sthrong 
raypublican leanings. Put it this way : I’m a dim- 
mycrat, be a point raypublican, dimmycrat. Anny 
sailor man’ll undherstand that.’ 4 What’ll I say ye’er 
platform is ’ 4 Platform ? ’ 4 Ye have to stand 

on a platform.’ 4 1 do, do I? Well, I don’t. I’ll 
stand on no platform, an’ I’ll hang on no sthrap. 
What d’ye think th’ prisidincy is — a throlley car 4 ? 
No, sir, whin ye peek in th’ dure to sell ye’er paper 
ye’ll see ye’er Uncle George settin’ down comforta- 
ble with his legs crossed, thrippin’ up annywan that 
thries to pass him. Go out now an’ write ye’er little 
item, f’r ’tis late an’ all hands ar-re piped to bed,’ he 
says. 


[178] 


THE ADMIRAL’S CANDIDACY 

“An’ there ye ar-re. Well, sir, ’tis a hard year 
Cousin George has in store f’r him. Th’ first thing 
he knows he’ll have to pay f’r havin’ his pitchers in 
th’ pa-aper. Thin he’ll larn iv siv’ral prevyous con- 
victions in Vermont. Thin he’ll discover that they 
was no union label on th’ goods he delivered at Ma- 
nila. ’Twill be pointed out be careful observers that 
he was ilicted prisidint iv th’ A. P. A. be th’ Jesuits. 
Thin somewan’ll dig up that story about his not 
feelin’ anny too well th’ mornin’ iv th’ fight, an’ ye 
can imajine th’ pitchers they’ll print, an’ th’ jokes 
that’ll be made, an’ th’ songs : 4 Dewey Lost His 
Appetite at th’ Battle iv Manila. Did McKinley 
Iver Lose His?’ An’ George’ll wake up th’ 
mornin’ afther iliction an’ he’ll have a sore head an’ 
a sorer heart, an’ he’ll find that th’ on’y support he 
got was fr’m th’ goold dimmycratic party, an’ th’ 
chances ar-re he caught cold fr’m goin’ out without 
his shawl an’ cudden’t vote. He’ll find that a man 
can be r-right an’ be prisidint, but he can’t be both 
at th’ same time. An’ he’ll go down to breakfast 
an’ issue Gin’ral Ordher Number Wan, 4 To All 
Superyor Officers Commandin’ Admirals iv th’ 
United States navy at home or on foreign service: 
If anny man mintions an admiral f’r prisidint, hit 
him in th’ eye an’ charge same to me.’ An’ thin 

C 1 79 J 


THE ADMIRAL'S CANDIDACY 


he’ll go to his office an’ prepare a plan f ’ r to capture 
Dublin, th’ capital iv England, whin th’ nex’ war 
begins. An’ he’ll spind th’ r-rest iv his life thryin’ 
to live down th’ time he was a candydate.” 

“Well, be hivins, I think if Dewey says he’s a 
dimmycrat an’ Joyce is with him, I’ll give him a 
vote,” said Mr. Hennessy. “ It’s no sin to be a 
candydate f ’r prisidint.” 

“No,” said Mr. Dooley. “’Tis sometimes a 
misfortune an’ sometimes a joke. But I hope ye 
won’t vote f’r him. He might be ilicted if ye did. 
I’d like to raymimber him, an’ it might be I cud- 
den’t if he got th’ job. Who was the prisidint 
befure Mack *? Oh, tubby sure ! ” 


[180] 


CUSTOMS OF KEN- 
TUCKY 

ELL, sir,” said Mr. Dooley, “ ’tis good to 
see that th’ gloryous ol’ commonwealth 
iv Kentucky is itsilf again.” 

“ How’s that ? ” asked Mr. Hennessy. 

“ F’r some time past,” said Mr. Dooley, “ they’s 
been nawthin’ doin’ that’d make a meetin’ iv th’ 
Epworth League inthrestin’. Th’ bystanders in 
Kentucky has been as safe as a journeyman high- 
wayman in Chicago. Perfectly innocent an’ un- 
armed men wint into th’ state an’ come out again 
without a bullethole in their backs. It looked f’r 
awhile as if th’ life iv th’ ordn’ry visitor was goin’ to 
be as harmless in Kentucky as in Utah, th’ home iv 
th’ desthroyers iv American domestic life. I din- 
naw why it was, whether it was th’ influence iv our 
new citizens in Cubia an’ th’ Ph’lippeens or what it 
[181] 



CUSTOMS OF KENTUCKY 


was, but annyhow th’ on’y news that come out iv 
Kentucky was as peaceful, Hinnissy, as th’ rayports 
iv a bloody battle in South Africa. But Kentucky, 
as Hogan says, was not dead but on’y sleepin’. 
Th’ other day that gran’ ol’ state woke up through 
two iv its foremost rapid firin’ citizens. 

“ They met be chanst in a hotel con-tagious to 
a bar. Colonel Derringer was settin’ in a chair 
peacefully fixin’ th’ hammer iv his forty-four Colt 
gun, presinted to him be his constitooents on th’ oc- 
casion iv his mim’rable speech on th’ nicissity iv 
spreadin’ th’ civilization iv th’ United States to th’ 
ends iv th’ wur-ruld. Surroundin’ him was Major 
Bullseye, a well-known lawyer, cattle-raiser an’ jour- 
nalist iv Athens, Bulger County, whose desthruction 
iv Captain Cassius Glaucus Wiggins at th’ meetin’ 
iv’ th’ thrustees in th’ Sicond Baptist Church ex- 
cited so much comment among spoortin’ men three 
or four years ago, Gin’ral Rangefinder iv Thebes, 
Colonel Chivvy iv Sparta, who whittled Major Ly- 
curgus Gam iv Thermopylae down to th’ wish- 
bone at th’ anti-polygamist meetin’ las’ June, an’ 
other well-known gintlemen. 

“ Th’ party was suddenly confronted be Major 
Lyddite iv Carthage an’ a party iv frinds who 
were in town for th’ purpose iv protectin’ th’ suf- 
[182] 


CUSTOMS OF KENTUCKY 

frage again’ anny pollution but their own. Colonel 
Derringer an’ Major Lyddite had been inimies f’r 
sivral months, iver since Major Lyddite in an at- 
timpt to desthroy wan iv his fellow-citizens killed a 
cow belongin’ to th’ janial Colonel. Th’ two gin- 
tlemen had sworn f’r to slay each other at sight or 



thirty days, an’ all Kentucky society has been on 
what Hogan calls th’ quee veev or look-out f’r 
another thrajeedy to be added to th’ long list iv 
sim’lar ivints that marks th’ histhry iv th’ Dark an’ 
Bloody Groun’ — which is a name given to Ken- 
tucky be her affectionate sons. 

“ Without a wur-rud or a bow both gintlemen 

[183] 


CUSTOMS OF KENTUCKY 


dhrew on each other an’ begun a deadly fusillade. 
That is, Hinnissy, they begun shootin’ at th’ by- 
standers. I’ll tell ye what th’ pa-apers said about it. 
Th’ two antagonists was in perfect form an’ well 
sustained th’ reputation iv th’ state f ’r acc’rate work- 
manship. Colonel Derringer’s first shot caught a 
boot an’ shoe drummer fr’m Chicago square in th’ 
back amid consid’rable applause. Major Lyddite 
tied th’ scoor be nailin’ a scrubwoman on th’ top iv 
a ladder. Th’ man at th’ traps sprung a bell boy 
whom th’ Colonel on’y winged, thus goin’ back 
wan, but his second barrel brought down a book- 
canvasser fr’m New York, an’ this bein’ a Jew man 
sint him ahead three. Th’ Major had an aisy wan 
f’r th’ head waiter, nailin’ him just as he jumped 
into a coal hole. Four all. Th’ Colonel thried a 
difficult polisman, lamin’ him. Thin th’ Major 
turned his attintion to his own frinds, an’ made 
three twos in succession. Th’ Colonel was not so 
forch’nate. He caught Major Bullseye an’ Captain 
Wiggins, but Gin’ral Rangefinder was safe behind 
a barber’s pole an’ Colonel Chivvy fluttered out iv 
range. Thus th’ scoor was tin to six at th’ conclu- 
sion iv th’ day’s spoort in favor iv Major Lyddite. 
Unforchnately th’ gallant Major was onable f’r to 
reap th’ reward iv his excellent marksmanship, f’r in 

[184] 


CUSTOMS OF KENTUCKY 


a vain indeavor f’r a large scoor, he chased th’ bar- 
ber iv th 1 sicond chair into th’ street, an’ there slip- 
pin’ on a banana peel, fell an’ sustained injuries fr’m 
which he subsequently died. In him th’ counthry 
loses a valu’ble an’ acc’rate citizen, th’ state a lile 
an’ rapid firin’ son, an’ society a leadin’ figure, his 
meat-market an’ grocery bein’ wan iv th’ largest 
outside iv Minerva. Some idee iv th’ acc’racy iv 
th’ fire can be gained fr’m th’ detailed scoor, as 
follows : Lyddite, three hearts, wan lung, wan kid- 
ney, five brains. Derringer, four hearts, two brains. 
This has seldom been excelled. Among th’ minor 
casualties resultin’ fr’m this painful but delightful 
soiree was th’ followin’ : Erastus Haitch Muggins, 
kilt be jumpin’ fr’m th’ roof; Blank Cassidy, hide 
an’ pelt salesman fr’m Chicago, burrid undher vic- 
tims ; Captain Epaminondas Lucius Quintus Cas- 
sius Marcellus Xerxes Cyrus Bangs of Hoganpolis, 
Hamilcar Township, Butseen County, died iv 
hear-rt disease whin his scoor was tied. Th' las’ 
named was a prominent leader in society, a crack 
shot an a gintleman iv th’ ol’ school without fear 
an’ without reproach. His son succeeds to his 
lunch car. Th’ others don’t count. 

“ ’Twas a gr-reat day f’r Kentucky, Hinnissy, an’ 
it puts th’ gran’ oP state two or three notches ahead 

[>85] 


CUSTOMS OF KENTUCKY 


rv anny sim’lar community in th’ wur-ruld. Talk 
about th’ Boer war an’ th’ campaign in th’ Ph’lip- 
peens ! Whin Kentucky begins f ’r to shoot up 
her fav’rite sons they’ll be more blood spilled thin 
thim two play wars’d spill between now an’ th’ 
time whin Ladysmith’s relieved f’r th’ las’ time an’ 
Agynaldoo is r-run up a three in th’ outermost cor- 
ner iv Hoar County, state iv Luzon. They’se rale 
shootin in Kentucky, an’ whin it begins ivrybody 
takes a hand. ’Tis th’ on’y safe way. If ye thry 
to be an onlooker an’ what they calls a non-com- 
batant ’tis pretty sure ye’ll be taken home to ye’er 
fam’ly lookin’ like a cribbage-boord. So th’ thing 
f’r ye to do is to be wan iv th’ shooters ye’ersilf 
load up ye’er gun an’ whale away f’r th’ honor iv 
ye’er counthry.” 

“ ’Tis a disgrace,” said Mr. Hennessy. 44 Where 
were th’ polis ” 

44 This was not th’ place f’r a polisman,” said Mr. 
Dooley. 44 I suspict though, fr’m me knowledge 
iv th’ kind iv man that uses firear-rms that if some 
wan’d had th’ prisence iv mind to sing out 4 They’se 
a man at th’ bar that offers to buy dhrinks f’r th’ 
crowd,’ they’d be less casu’lties fr’m bullets, though 
they might be enough people kilt in th’ r-rush to 
even it up. But whin I read about these social 

L *86] 


CUSTOMS OF KENTUCKY 


affairs in Kentucky, I sometimes wish some spool 
cotton salesman fr’m Matsachoosets, who’d be sure 
to get kilt whin th’ shootin’ begun, wud go down 
there with a baseball bat an’ begin tappin’ th’ gallant 
gintlemen on th’ head befure breakfast an’ in silf 
definse. I’ll bet ye he’d have thim jumpin’ through 
thransoms in less thin two minyits, f’r ye can put 
this down as thrue fr’m wan that’s seen manny a 
shootin’, that a man, barrin’ he’s a polisman, on’y 
dhraws a gun whin he’s dhrunk or afraid. Th’ 
gun fighter, Hinnissy, tin to wan is a cow’rd.” 

“That’s so,” said Mr. Hennessy. “But it don’t 
do to take anny chances on.” 

“ No,” said Mr. Dooley, “he might be dhrunk.” 


[*s 7 ] 














A SOCIETY SCANDAL 


ELL, sir, I guess Pm not up on etiket,” 
said Mr. Dooley. 

“ How’s that ? ” demanded Mr. Hen- 
nessy. 

“Pve been readin’ about Willum Waldorf As- 
thor,” replied Mr. Dooley, “ an’ th’ throuble he had 
with a la-ad that bummed his way into his party. 
Ye see, Hinnissy, Willum Waldorf Asthor give a 
party at his large an’ commodjious house in Lon- 
don. That’s where he lives — in London — though 
he r-runs a hotel in New York, where ye can see 
half th’ state iv Ioway near anny night, they tell me. 
Well, he give this party on a gran’ scale, an’ bought 
gr-reat slathers iv food an’ dhrink, an’ invited th’ 
neighbors an’ the neighbors’ childher. But wan 
man he wudden’t have. He’s goin’ over th’ list iv 
th’ people that’s to come, an’ he says to his sicrety : 
‘ Scratch that boy. Him an’ me bump as we pass 

[189] 



A SOCIETY SCANDAL 


by.’ He didn’t want this fellow, ye see, Hinnissy. 
I don’t know why. They was dissatisfaction be- 
tween thim ; annyhow, he says : ‘ Scratch him,’ 

an’ he was out iv it. 

“Well, wan night, th’ fellow was settin’ down f’r 

a bite to eat with Lady O , an’ Lady S , an’ 

Lady G , an’ Lady Y , an’ other ladies that 

had lost their names, an’ says wan iv thim, 4 Cap,’ 
she says, 4 ar-re ye goin’ to Asthor’s doin’s to- 
night?’ she says. 4 Not that I know iv,’ says th’ 
Cap. 4 He hasn’t sint me anny wurrud that I’m 
wanted,’ he says. 4 What differ does it make,’ says 
th’ lady. 4 Write an invitation f’r ye’rsilf on ye’er 
cuff an’ come along with us,’ says she. 4 I’ll do 
it,’ says the Cap, an’ he sint f’r an automobile an’ 
goes along. 

44 Well, ivrything was all r-right f’r awhile, an’ 
th’ Cap was assaultin’ a knuckle iv ham an’ a shell 
iv beer, whin Willum Waldorf Asthor comes up 
an’ taps him on th’ shoulder an’ says: 4 Duck.’ 
4 What name ? ’ says th’ Cap. 4 Asthor,’ says 
Willum. 4 Oh,’ says th’ Cap, 4 ye’re th’ American 
gazabo that owns this hut,’ he says. 4 1 am,’ says 
Willum. 4 1 can’t go,’ says th’ Cap. 4 Ye didn’t 
ask me here an’ ye can’t sind me away,’ he says. 
4 Gossoon, another shell iv malt, an’ dhraw it more 
[ ! 90 ] 


A SOCIETY SCANDAL 


slow,’ he says. 4 1 am an English gintleman an’ I 
know me rights,’ he says. 4 Dure or window,’ says 
Willum. 4 Take ye’er choice,’ he says. 4 If ye 
insist,’ says th’ Cap, 4 I’ll take th’ dure,’ he says, 
4 but ye don’t know th’ customs iv civilization,’ he 
says ; an’ th’ hired man just grazed him on th’ dure 
sthep. 

‘‘Well, Willum Waldorf Asthor was that mad, 
he wint down to his pa-aper office, an’ says he, 4 1 
want to put in an item,’ he says, an’ he put it in. 
4 It is wished,’ he says, 4 to be apprihinded,’ he says, 
4 be those desirous not to have been misinformed,’ he 
says, ‘concarnin’ th’ recent appearance iv Cap Sir 
Mills at me party,’ he says, ‘that ’twas not be me 
that said Cap Sir Mills come to be on th’ site,’ he 
says, 4 but rather,’ he says, 4 through a desire on th’ 
part iv Cap Sir Mills to butt into a party to which 
his invitation was lost about three hours befure ’twas 
written,’ he says. 

44 Well, now, ye’d think that was all right, wud- 
den’t ye? Ye’d say Asthor acted mild whin he 
didn’t take down his goold ice pick from th’ wall an’ 
bate th’ Cap over th’ head. Th’ Cap, though a 
ganial soul, had no business there. ’Twas Willum 
Waldorf Asthor that paid f’r the ice cream an’ 
rented th’ chiny. But that’s where ye’d be wrong, 

E 1 ^] 


A SOCIETY SCANDAL 


an’ that’s where I was wrong. Whin th’ Prince iv 
Wales heerd iv it he was furyous. 4 What,’ he says, 
4 is an English gintleman goin’ to be pegged out iv 
dures be a mere American be descent? ’ he says. 4 A 
man,’ he says, 4 that hasn’t an entail to his name,’ 
he says. 4 An American’s home in London is an 
Englishman’s castle,’ he says. 4 As th’ late Earl iv 
Pitt said, th’ furniture may go out iv it, th’ consta- 
ble may enther, th’ mortgage may fall on th’ rooned 
roof, but a thrue Englishman’ll niver leave,’ he 
says, ‘while they’se food an’ dhrink,’ he says. 
‘Willum Waldorf Asthor has busted th’ laws iv 
hospitality, an’ made a monkey iv a lile subjick iv 
th’ queen,’ he says. 4 Hinceforth,’ he says, 4 he’s ast 
to no picnics iv th’ Buckingham Palace Chowder 
Club,’ he says. An’ th’ nex’ day Willum Waldorf 
Asthor met him at th’ races where he was puttin’ 
down a bit iv money an’ spoke to him, an’ th’ 
Prince iv Wales gave him wan in th’ eye. He 
must ’ve had something in his hand, f ’r the pa-aper 
said he cut him. P’raps ’twas his scipter. An’ now 
no wan’ll speak to Willum Waldorf Asthor, an’ 
he’s not goin’ to be a jook at all, an’ he may have to 
come back here an’ be nachurlized over again like 
a Bohamian. He’s all broke up about it. He’s 
gone to Germany to take a bath.” 

[ » 9 2 ] 


A SOCIETY SCANDAL 


“Lord, help us,” said Mr. Hennessy, “can’t he 
get wan nearer home ? ” 

“ It seems not,” said Mr. Dooley. “ Mebbe the 
Prince iv Wales has had th’ wather cut off. He 
has a big pull with th’ people in th’ city hall/’ 


[ > 93 ] 





















DOINGS OF ANAR- 
CHISTS 


HY should anny man want to kill a 
king ? ” said Mr. Dooley. “ That’s 
what I’d like to know. Little gredge 
have I again’ anny monarch in th’ deck. 
Live an’ let live’s me motto. Th’ more ye have in 
this wurruld th’ less ye have. Make in wan place, 
lose in another’s th’ rule, me boy. Little joy, little 
sorrow. Takin’ it all an’ all I’d rather be where I 
am thin on a throne, an’ be th’ look iv things I’ll 
have me wish. ’Tis no aisy job bein’ a king barrin’ 
th’ fact that ye don’t have to marry th’ woman iv 
ye’er choice but th’ woman iv somebody else’s. 
’Tis like takin’ a conthract an’ havin’ th’ union fur- 
nish th’ foreman an’ th’ mateeryal. Thin if th’ 
wurruk ain’t good a wild-eyed man fr’m Paterson, 
Noo Jarsey, laves his monkey an’ his hand organ an’ 

[ > 95 ] 



DOINGS OF ANARCHISTS 


takes a shot at ye. Thank th’ Lord I’m not so big 
that anny man can get comfort fr’m pumpin’ a 
Winchester at me fr’m th’ top iv a house. 

“ But if I was king ne’er an organ grinder’d get 
near enough me to take me life with a Hotchkiss 
gun. I’d be so far away fr’m the multitood, Hin- 
nissy, that they cud on’y distinguish me rile features 
with a spy-glass. I’d have polismen at ivry tur-rn, 
an’ I’d have me subjicks retire to th’ cellar whin I 
took me walk. Divvle a bit wud you catch me 
splattherin’ mesilf with morthar an’ stickin’ news- 
papers in a hole in a corner shtone to show future 
gin’rations th’ progress iv crime in this cinchry. 
They’d lay their own .corner-shtone f’r all iv me. 
I’d communicate with th’ pop’lace be means iv gin- 
ral ordhers, an’ I’d make it a thing worth tellin’ 
about to see th’ face iv th’ gr-reat an’ good King 
Dooley. 

“Kings is makin’ thimsilves too common. Now- 
adays an arnychist dhrops into a lunch-room at th’ 
railroad depot an’ sees a man settin’ on a stool atin’ 
a quarther section iv a gooseb’ry pie an’ dhrinkin’ a 
glass iv buttermilk. 4 D’ye know who that is ’ 
says th’ lunch-counter lady. 4 1 do not/ says th’ 
arnychist, 4 but be th’ look iv hi*m he ain’t much.’ 
4 That’s th’ king/ says th’ lady. 4 Th’ king, is it/ 
[i 9 6] 


DOINGS OF ANARCHISTS 


says th’ arnychist. ‘ Thin here’s f ’r wan king less,’ 
he says, an’ ’tis all over. A king ought to be a 
king or he oughtn’t. He don’t need to be a good 
mixer. If he wants to hang on he must keep out 
iv range. ’Tis th’ kings an’ queens that thrusts so 
much in th’ lilety iv their people that they live in 
summer resort hotels an’ go out walkin’ with a dog 



that’s hurted. Th’ on’y person that ought to be able 
to get near enough a rale king to kill him is a jook, 
or th’ likes iv that. Th’ idee iv a man from Noo 
Jarsey havin’ th’ chanst ! ” 

“ What on earth’s to be done about thim arny- 
chists ? ” Mr. Hennessy asked. “ What ails thim 
annyhow ? What do they want? ” 

“ Th’ Lord on’y knows,” said Mr. Dooley. 

[ *97] 


DOINGS OF ANARCHISTS 


“ They don’t want annything, that’s what they want. 
They want peace on earth an’ th’ way they propose 
to get it is be murdhrin’ ivry man that don’t agree 
with thim. They think we all shud do as they 
please. They’re down on th’ polis foorce an’ in 
favor iv th’ pop’lace, an’ whin they’ve kilt a king 
they call on th’ polis to save thim fr ’m th’ mob. 
An’ between you an’ me, Hinnissy, ivry arnychist 
I’ve knowed, an’ I’ve met manny in me time, an’ 
quite, law-abidin’ citizens they was, too, had th’ 
makin’ iv a thradeejan in him. If they was no 
newspapers they’d be few arnychists. They want 
to get their pitchers in th’ pa-apers an’ they can’t do 
it be wheelin’ bananas through th’ sthreets or milk- 
in’ a cow, so they go out an’ kill a king. I used to 
know a man be th’ name iv Schmitt that was a cob- 
bler be profession an’ lived next dure but wan to 
me. He was th’ dacintist man ye iver see. He 
kep’ a canary bur-rd, an’ his devotion to his wife 
was th’ scandal iv th’ neighborhood. But bless my 
soul, how he hated kings. He cudden’t abide Cas- 
sidy afther he heerd he was a dayscinded fr’m th’ 
kings iv Connock, though Cassidy was what ye 
call a prolotoorio or a talkin’ workin’man. An’ th’ 
wan king he hated above all others was th’ king iv 
Scholizwig-Holstein, which was th’ barbarous coun- 
[198] 


DOINGS OF ANARCHISTS 


thry he come fr’m. He cud talk fairly dacint about 
other kings, but this wan — Ludwig was his name 
an’ I seen his pitcher in th’ pa-apers wanst — wud 
throw him into a fit. He blamed ivrything that 
happened to Ludwig. If they was a sthrike he 
charged it to Ludwig. If Schwartzmeister didn’t 
pay him f’r half-solin’ a pair iv Congress gaiters 
he used to wear in thim days, he tied a sthring 
arround his finger f’r to remind him that he 
had to kill Ludwig. 4 What have ye again’ th’ 
king ? ’ says I. 4 He is an opprissor iv th’ poor,’ he 
says. 4 So ar-re ye,’ I says , 4 or ye’d mend boots free.’ 
4 He’s explodin’ th’ prolotoorio,’ he says. 4 Sure,’ 
says I, 4 th’ prolotoorio can explode thimsilves pret- 
ty well,’ says I. 4 He oughtn’t to be allowed to live 
in luxury while others starve,’ he says. 4 An’ wud 
ye be killin’ a man f’r holdin’ a nice job ? ’ says I. 
4 What good wud it do ye ? ’ says I. 4 I’d be th’ 
emancipator iv th’ people,’ says he. 4 Ye’d have th’ 
wurred on th’ coffin lid,’ says I. 4 Why,’ says he, 
‘think iv me, Schmitt, Owgoost Schmitt, stalkin’ 
forth to avinge th’ woes iv th’ poor,’ he says. 
4 Loodwig, th’ cursed, goes by. I jumps fr’m behind 
a three an’ society is freed fr’m th’ monsther,’ he 
says. ‘Think iv th’ glory iv it,’ he says. ‘Ow- 
goost Schmitt, emancipator,’ he says. 4 I’ll prove to 

[ > 99 ] 


DOINGS OF ANARCHISTS 


Mary Ann that I’m a man,’ he says. Mary Ann 
was his wife. Her maiden name was Riley. She 
heard him say it. ‘ Gus,’ says she, ‘ if iver I hear iv 
ye shootin’ e’er a king I’ll lave ye,’ she says. 

“ Well, sir, I thought he was jokin’, but be hivins, 
wan day he disappeared, an’ lo an’ behold, two 
weeks afther I picks up a pa-aper an’ r-reads that 
me brave Schmitt was took up be th’ polis f ’r thryin’ 
to cop a monarch fr’m behind a three. I sint him a 
copy iv a pa-aper with his pitcher in it, but I don’t 
know if iver he got it. He’s over there now an’ his 
wife is takin’ in washin’. 

“ It’s vanity that makes arnychists, Hinnissy — 
vanity an’ th’ habits kings has nowadays iv bein’ as 
common as life insurance agents.” 

“ I don’t like kings,” said Mr. Hennessy, “ but I 
like arnychists less. They ought to be kilt off as 
fast as they’re caught.” 

“ They’ll be that,” said Mr. Dooley. “ But kill- 
in’ thim is like wringin’ th’ neck iv a mickrobe.” 


[200] 


ANGLO-AMERICAN 

SPORTS 


INNISSY, if iver we have war with what 
me frind Carl Schurz’d call th’ Mother 
Counthry, it’ll not come fr’m anny Vin- 
nyzwalan question. Ye can’t get me 
excited over th’ throbbin’ debate on th’ location iv 
th’ Orynocoo River or whether th’ miners that go to 
Alaska f’r goold ar-re buried be th’ Canajeen or th’ 
American authorities. Ye bet ye can’t. But some 
day we’ll be beat in a yacht r-race or done up at fut- 
ball an’ thin what Hogan calls th’ dogs iv war’ll 
break out iv th’ kennel an’ divastate th’ wurruld.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Hennessy, complacently, “if 
we wait f’r that we might as well disband our navy.” 

“ I dinnaw about that,” said Mr. Dooley, “ I din- 
naw about that ; afther ye left to investigate th’ ir’n 
foundhries an’ other pitcheresque roons iv this mis- 



ANGLO-AMERICAN SPORTS 


guided counthry, I wint out to give a few raw rahs 
f ’r me fellow colleejens, who was attimptin’ to dim- 
onsthrate their supeeryority over th’ effete scholars 
iv England at what I see be th’ pa-apers is called th* 
Olympian games. Ye get to th* Olympian games 
be suffocation in a tunnel. Whin ye come to, ye 
pay four shillin’s or a dollar in our degraded cur- 
rency, an’ stand in th’ sun an’ look at th’ Prince iv 
Wales. Th’ Prince iv Wales looks at ye, too, but 
he don’t see ye. 

“ Me frind, th’ American ambassadure was there, 
an’ manny iv th’ seats iv lamin’ in th’ gran’ stand 
was occupied be th’ flower iv our seminaries iv med- 
itation or thought conservatories. I r-read it in th’ 
pa-apers. At th* time I come in they was recitin’ a 
pome fr’m th’ Greek, to a thoughtful-lookin’ young 
profissor wearin’ th’ star-spangled banner f ’r a neck- 
tie an’ smokin’ a cigareet. ‘ Now, boys,’ says th’ 
profissor, ‘ all together.’ 4 Rickety, co-ex, co-ex, 
hullabaloo, bozoo, bozoo. Harvard,’ says th’ lads. I 
was that proud iv me belovid counthry that I wanted 
to take off me hat there an’ thin an’ give th’ colledge 
yell iv th’ Ar-rchey road reform school. But I 
was resth rained be a frind iv mine that I met cornin’ 
over. He was fr’m Matsachoosetts, an’ says he: 
‘ Don’t make a disturbance,’ he says. 4 We’ve got 
[ 202 ] 


ANGLO-AMERICAN SPORTS 


to create a fav’rable impression here,’ he says, ‘ Th’ 
English,’ he says, ‘ niver shows enthusyasm,’ he says. 
‘’Tis regarded as unpolite,’ he says. 1 If ye yell,’ 
he says, ‘they’ll think we want to win,’ he says, ‘an’ 
we didn’t come over here to win,’ he says. ‘ Let us 
show thim,’ he says, ‘ that we’re gintlemen, be it iver 



so painful,’ he says. An’ I resthrained mesilf be 
puttin’ me fist in me mouth. 

“ They was an Englishman standin’ behind me, 
Hinnissy, an’ he was a model iv behaviour f’r all 
Americans intindin’ to take up their homes in Cubia. 
Ye cudden’t get this la-ad war-rmed up if ye built a 
fire undher him. He had an eye-glass pinned to his 
face an’ he niver even smiled whin a young gintle- 
man fr’m Harvard threw a sledge hammer wan mile, 

[203] 


ANGLO-AMERICAN SPORTS 


two inches. A fine la-ad, that Harvard man, but if 
throwin’ th’ hammer’s spoort, thin th’ rowlin’ mills is 
th’ athletic cintre iv our belovid counthry. Whin 
an Englishman jumped further thin another la-ad, 
me frind th’ Ice-box, says he : 6 H’yah, h’yah ! ’ So 
whin an American la-ad lept up in th’ air as though 
he’d been caught be th’ anchor iv a baloon, I says : 

‘ H’yah, h’yah ! ’ too. Whin a sign iv th’ effete aris- 
tocracy iv England done up sivral free-bor-rn Amer- 
icans fr’m Boston in a fut r-race, me frind the Far- 
thest North, he grabs his wan glass eye an’ says he : 
‘Well r-run, Cambridge!’ he says; ‘Well r-run,’ 
he says. An’ ‘ Well r-run, whativer colledge ye’re 
fr’m,’ says I, whin wan iv our la-ads jumped over a 
fence ahead iv some eager but consarvative English 
scholars. 

“ Well, like a good game, it come three an’ three. 
Three times had victhry perched upon our banner 
an’ thrice — I see it in th’ pa-aper — had th’ flag 
iv th’ mother counthry proclaimed that English- 
men can r-run. It was thryin’ on me narves an’ I 
wanted to yell whin th’ tie was r-run off but th’ man 
fr’m Matsachoosetts says : ‘ Contain ye’ersilf,’ he 
says. ‘ Don’t allow ye’er frinzied American spirit 
to get away with ye’er manners,’ he says. ‘ Obsarve.’ 
he says, ‘ th’ ca’m with which our brother Anglo- 
[204] 


ANGLO-AMERICAN SPORTS 


Saxon views th’ scene, 5 he says. ‘ Ah ! 5 he says, 
‘ they’re off an 5 be th’ jumpin’ George Wash’nton, I 
bet ye that fellow fr’m West Newton’ll make that 
red-headed, long-legged, bread-ballasted Englishman 
look like thirty cints. Hurroo,’ he says. ‘ Go on, 
Harvard,’ he says. 4 Go on,’ he says. 6 Rah, rah, 
rah,’ he says. 4 Ate him up, chew him up,’ he says. 
4 Harvard ! ’ he says. 

44 1 looked ar-round at th’ ca’m dispassyonate Eng- 
lishman. He dhropped his eye-glass so he cud see 
th’ race an’ he had his cane in th’ air. 4 Well r-run,’ 
he says. 4 Well r-run, Cambridge,’ he says. 4 Pull 
him down,’ he says. 4 Run over him,’ he says. 
4 Thrip him up,’ he says. 4 They can’t r-run,’ he 
says, 4 except whin they’re Ph’lipinos behind thim,’ 
he says. ‘Well r-run,’ he says, an’ he welted th’ 
man fr’m Matsachoosetts with his cane. 4 Be care- 
ful what ye’re doin’ there,’ says th’ Anglo-Saxon. 
4 If it wasn’t f ’r th’ ’liance I’d punch ye’er head off,’ 
he says. 4 An’,’ says th’ ca’m Englishman, 4 if it 
wasn’t f’r our common hurtage,’ he says, 4 I’d make 
ye jump over th’ gran’ stand,’ he says. 4 Th’ Eng- 
lish always cud beat us r-runnin’,’ says the sage iv 
Matsachoosetts. 4 Th’ Americans start first an’ fin- 
ishes last,’ says th’ Englishman. An’ I had to pull 
thim apart. 


[205] 


ANGLO-AMERICAN SPORTS 


“ Whether it is that our American colleejans 
spinds too much iv their lung power in provin’ their 
devotion to what Hogan calls their Almy Matthers 
or not, I dinnaw, but annyhow, we had to dhrag th’ 
riprisintative iv our branch iv th’ Anglo-Saxon an’ 
Boheemyan civilization in th’ three-mile race fr’m 
undher two thousand iv our cousins or brothers-in- 
law that was ca’mly an’ soberly, but hurridly an’ 
noisily chargin’ acrost th’ thrack to cheer their own 
man. 

“Me frind fr’m Matsachoosets was blue as we 
winded our way to th’ sthrangulation railway an’ 
started back I’r home. 4 I’m sorry,’ he says, 4 to 
lose me timper,’ he says, 4 but,’ he says, 4 afther all 
th’ pretinded affection iv these people f’r us,’ he 
says, 4 an’ afther all we’ve done f’r thim in Alaska 
an’ — an’ ivrywhere,’ he says, 4 an’ thim sellin’ 
us coal whin they might’ve sold it to th’ Span- 
yards if th’ Spanyards’d had th’ money,’ he says, 4 to 
see th’ conduct iv that coarse an’ brutal English- 
man — ’ 4 Th’ wan that won th’ r-race ? ’ says I. 

4 Yes,’ he says. 4 No, I mean th’ wan that lammed 
me with his cane,’ he says. 4 If it hadn’t been,’ 
he says, 4 that we’re united,’ he says, 4 be a com- 
mon pathrimony,’ he says, 4 1’d’ve had his life,’ he 
says. 4 Ye wud so,’ says I, 4 an’ ye’re r-right,’ I says. 

[206] 


ANGLO-AMERICAN SPORTS 

‘ If all th’ la-ads enthered into th’ r-races with th’ same 
spirit ye show now,’ I says, 4 th’ English flag’d be 
dhroopin’ fr’m th’ staff, an’ Cyrus Bodley iv Wad- 
ham, Mass., ’d be paintin’ th’ stars an’ sthripes on th’ 
Nelson monnymint,’ I says. 4 Whin we hated th’ 
English,’ I says, 4 an’ a yacht r-race was li’ble to end 
in a war message fr’m the prisidint, we used to bate 
thim,’ I says. ‘Now,’ says I, ‘whin we’re afraid to 
injure their feelin’s,’ I says, 4 an’ whin we ’pologise 
befure we punch, they bate us,’ I says. 4 They’re 
used to ’pologisin’ with wan hand an’ punchin’ with 
th’ other,’ I says. 4 Th’ on’y way is th’ way iv me 
cousin Mike,’ I says. 4 He was a gr-reat rassler an’ 
whin he had a full Nelson on th’ foolish man that 
wint again him, he used to say, ‘Dear me, am I 
breakin’ ye’er neck, I hope so.’ 

44 But th’ Matsachoosetts man didn’t see it that 
way. An’ some time, I tell ye, Hinnissy, an’ Eng- 
lishman’ll put th’ shot wan fut further than wan iv 
our men th’ Lord save us fr’m th’ disgrace ! — an’ th’ 
next day we’ll invade Canada.” 

44 We ought to do it, annyhow,” said Mr. Hen- 
nessy stoutly. 

44 We wud,” said Mr. Dooley, 44 if we were sure 
we cud lave it aftherwards.” 


[207] 





/ 


I 


✓ 


VOICES FROM THE 
TOMB 


DON’T think,” said Mr. Dooley, “ that 
me frind Willum Jennings Bryan is as 
good an orator as he was four years 
ago.” 

“He’s th’ grandest talker that’s lived since Dan’l 
O’Connell,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“Ye’ve heerd thim all an’ ye know,” said Mr. 
Dooley. “ But I tell ye he’s gone back. D’ye 
mind th’ time we wint down to th’ Coleesyum an’ 
he come out in a black alapaca coat an’ pushed into 
th’ air th’ finest wurruds ye iver heerd spoke in all 
ye’er bor-rn days*? ’Twas a balloon ascinsion an’ 
th’ las’ days iv Pompey an’ a blast on th’ canal all in 
wan. I had to hold on to me chair to keep fr’m 
goin’ up in th’ air, an’ I mind that if it hadn’t been 
f ’r a crack on th’ head ye got fr’m a dillygate fr’m 
[209] 



VOICES FROM THE TOMB 


Westconsin ye’d Ve been in th’ hair iv Gin’ral 
Bragg. Dear me, will ye iver f ’rget it, th’ way he 
pumped it into th’ pluthocrats % 4 I tell ye here an’ 

now,’ he says, 4 they’se as good business men in th’ 
quite counthry graveyards iv Kansas as ye can 
find in the palathial lunch-counthers iv Wall street,’ 
he says. 4 Whin I see th’ face iv that man who 
looks like a two-dollar pitcher iv Napolyeon at 
Saint Heleena,’ he says, 4 1 say to mesilf, ye shall 
not — ye shall not ’ — what th’ divvle is it ye shall not 
do, Hinnissy*?” 

44 Ye shall not crucify mankind upon a crown iv 
thorns,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“Right ye ar-re, I forgot,” Mr. Dooley went on. 
44 Well, thim were his own wurruds. He was young 
an’ he wanted something an’ he spoke up. He’d 
been a rayporther on a newspaper an’ he’d rather be 
prisidint thin write anny longer f ’r th’ pa-aper, an’ 
he made th’ whole iv th’ piece out iv his own head. 

44 But nowadays he has tin wurruds f’r Thomas 
Jefferson an’ th’ rest iv th’ sage crop to wan f’r 
himsilf. 4 Fellow-dimmycrats,’ he says, 4 befure go- 
in’ anny farther, an’ maybe farin’ worse, I reluctantly 
accipt th’ nommynation f’r prisidint that I have 
caused ye to offer me,’ he says, 4 an’ good luck to 
me,’ he says. 4 Seein’ th’ counthry in th’ condition 
[ 210 ] 


VOICES FROM THE TOMB 


it is/ he says, 4 1 cannot rayfuse/ he says. ‘ I will 
now lave a subject that must be disagreeable to 
manny iv ye an’ speak a few wurruds fr’m th’ fa- 
thers iv th’ party, iv whom there ar-re manny/ he 
says, though no shame to th’ party, f ’r all iv that/ 
he says. ‘ Thomas Jefferson, th’ sage iv Monticello, 
says: “Ye can’t make a silk purse out iv a sow’s 
ear,” a remark that will at wanst recall th’ sayin’ iv 
Binjamin Franklin, th’ sage iv Camden, that“th’ 
fartherest way ar- round is th’ shortest way acrost.” 
Nawthin’ cud be thruer thin that onliss it is th’ ipy- 
gram iv Andhrew Jackson, th’ sage iv Syr-acuse, 
that “ a bur-rd in th’ hand is worth two in th’ bush.” 
What gran’ wurruds thim ar-re, an’ how they must 
torture th’ prisint leaders iv th’ raypublican party. 
Sam’l Adams, th’ sage iv Salem, says : “ Laugh an’ 

the wurruld laughs with ye,” while Pathrick Hin- 
nery, th’ sage iv Jarsey City, puts it that “ ye shud 
always bet aces befure th’ dhraw.” Turnin’ farther 
back into histhry we find that Brian Boru, th’ sage 
iv Munsther, said: “ Cead mille failthe,” an’ Joolyus 
Caesar, th’ sage iv Waukeesha, says, “Whin ye’re 
in Rome, do th’ Romans.” Nebuchedneezar — 
there’s a name f'r ye — th’ sage iv I-dinnaw-where, 
says : “Ye can’t ate ye’er hay an’ have it.” Solo- 
mon, th’ sage iv Sageville, said, “ Whin a man’s 
[211 ] 


VOICES FROM THE TOMB 


marrid his throubles begins,” an’ Adam, th’ 
sage iv Eden, put it that “A snake in th’ grass is 
worth two in th’ boots.” Ye’ll see be this, me good 
an’ thrue frinds, that th’ voices fr’m th’ tombs is 
united in wan gran’ chorus f ’r th’ ticket ye have 
nommynated. I will say no more, but on a future 
occasion, whin I’ve been down in southern Injyanny, 
I’ll tell ye what th’ sages an’ fathers iv th’ party in 
th’ Ancient an’ Hon’rable Association iv Mound- 
Builders had to say about th’ prisint crisis.’ 

“’Tisn’t Bryan alone, Mack’s th’ same way. 
They’re both ancesther worshippers, like th’ Chinese, 
Hinnissy. An’ what I’d like to know is what 
Thomas Jefferson knew about th’ throubles iv ye 
an’ me ? Divvle a wurrud have I to say again’ 
Thomas. He was a good man in his day, though 
I don’t know that his battin’ av’rage ’d be high 
again’ th’ pitch in’ iv these times. I have a gr-reat 
rayspict f’r the sages an’ I believe in namin’ 
sthreets an’ public schools afther thim. But suppose 
Thomas Jefferson was to come back here now an’ 
say to himsilf : ‘ They’se a good dimmycrat up in 

Ar-rchy road an’ I think I’ll dhrop in on him an’ 
talk over th’ issues iv th’ day.’ Well, maybe he 
cud r-ride his old gray mare up an’ not be kilt be 
the throlley cars, an’ maybe th’ la-ads ’d think he 
[ 212 ] 



“ But suppose Thomas Jefferson was to come back 

here now.” 


































































































































































VOICES FROM THE TOMB 


was crazy an’ not murdher him f ’r his clothes. An’ 
maybe they wudden’t. But annyhow, suppose he 
got here, an’ afther he’d fumbled ar-round at th’ 
latch — f’r they had sthrings on th’ dure in thim 
days — I let him in. Well, whin I’ve injooced him 
to take a bowl iv red liquor — f’r in his time th’ 
dhrink was white — an’ explained how th’ seltzer 
comes out an’ th’ cash raygisther wurruks, an’ 
wather is dhrawn fr’m th’ fassit, an’ gas is lighted 
fr’m th’ burner, an’ got him so he wud not bump his 
head again’ th’ ceilin’ ivry time th’ beer pump threw 
a fit — afther that we’d talk iv the pollytical sit- 
uation. 

“ 4 How does it go ? ’ says Thomas. 6 Well,’ says 
I, 4 it looks as though Ioway was sure raypublican,’ 
says I. 4 Ioway ?’ says he. ‘What’s that?’ says 
he. 4 Ioway,’ says I, 4 is a state,’ says I. 4 1 niver 
heerd iv it,’ says he. 4 Faith ye did not,’ says I. 
4 But it’s a state just th’ same, an’ full iv corn an’ 
people,’ I says. 4 An’ why is it raypublican ? ’ says 
he. 4 Because,’ says I, 4 th’ people out there is f’r 
holdin’ th’ Ph’lippeens,’ says I. 4 What th’ divvle 
ar-re th’ Ph’lippeens ? ’ says he. 4 Is it a festival,’ 
says he, 4 or a dhrink ? ’ he says. 4 Faith, ’tis small 
wondher ye don’t know,’ says I, 4 f’r ’tis mesilf was 
weak on it a year ago,’ I says. 4 Th’ Ph’lippeens is 

[2.3] 


VOICES FROM THE TOMB 


an issue,’ says I, 4 an’ islands,’ says I, ‘ an’ a public 
nuisance,’ I says. 4 But,’ I says, 4 befure we go anny 
further on this subject,’ I says, ‘d’ye know where 
Minnysota is, or Westconsin, or Utah, or Cali- 
fornya, or Texas, or Neebrasky 4 ?’ says I. 4 1 do 
not,’ says he. 4 D’ye know that since ye’er death 
there has growed up on th’ shore iv Lake Mitchigan 
a city that wud make Rome look like a whistlin’ 
station — a city that has a popylation iv eight million 
people till th’ census rayport comes out ? ’ I says. 

4 1 niver heerd iv it,’ he says. 4 D’ye know that I 
can cross th’ ocean in six days, an’ won’t ; that if 
annything doesn’t happen in Chiny I can larn 
about it in twinty-four hours if I care to know; 
that if ye was in Wash’nton I cud call ye up be 
tillyphone an ye’er wire’d be busy % ’ I says, 4 1 do 
not,’ says Thomas Jefferson. 4 Thin,’ says I, ‘don’t 
presume to advise me,’ I says, 4 that knows these 
things an’ manny more,’ I says. 4 An’ whin ye go 
back where ye come fr’m an’ set down with th’ rest 
iv th’ sages to wondher whether a man cud possibly 
go fr’m Richmond to Boston in a week, tell thim,’ I 
says, 4 that in their day they r-run a corner grocery 
an’ to-day,’ says I, ‘we’re op’ratin’ a sixteen-story 
department store an’ puttin’ in ivrything fr’m an 
electhric lightin’ plant to a set iv false teeth,’ I says. 

[214] 


VOICES FROM THE TOMB 


An’ I hist him on his horse an’ ask a polisman to 
show him th’ way home. 

“ Be hivins, Hinnissy, I want me advice up-to- 
date, an’ whin Mack an’ W ilium Jennings tells me 
what George Wash’nton an’ Thomas Jefferson 
said, I says to thim : ‘ Gintlemen, they larned their 

thrade befure th’ days iv open plumbin’,’ I says. 
‘Tell us what is wanted ye’ersilf or call in a jour- 
neyman who’s wurrukin’ card is dated this cinchry,’ 
I says. ‘An’ I’m r-right too, Hinnissy.” 

“ Well,” said Mr. Hennessy, slowly, “ those ol’ 
la-ads was level-headed.” 

“Thrue f’r ye,” said Mr. Dooley. “But undher 
th’ new diction laws ye can’t vote th’ cimitries.” 


r 215] 







75he NEGRO PROBLEM 


HAT’S goin’ to happen to th’ naygur ? ” 
asked Mr. Hennessy. 

“ Well,” said Mr. Dooley, “he’ll ay- 
ther have to go to th’ north an’ be a sub- 
jick race, or stay in th’ south an’ be an objick lesson. 
’Tis a har-rd time he’ll have, annyhow. I’m not 
sure that I’d not as lave be gently lynched in 
Mississippi as baten to death in New York. If 
I was a black man. I’d choose th’ cotton belt in 
prifrince to th’ belt on th’ neck fr’m th’ polisman’s 
club. I wud so. 

“ I’m not so much throubled about th’ naygur 
whin he lives among his opprissors as I am whin he 
falls into th’ hands iv his liberators. Whin he’s in 
th’ south he can make up his mind to be lynched 
soon or late an’ give his attintion to his other 
pleasures iv composin’ rag-time music on a banjo, 
an’ wurrukin’ f’r th’ man that used to own him an’ 



THE NEGRO PROBLEM 


now on’y owes him his wages. But ’tis th’ divvle’s 
own hardship f’r a coon to step out iv th’ rooms iv 
th’ S’ciety f’r th’ Brotherhood iv Ma-an where he’s 
been r-readin’ a pome on th’ 4 Future of th’ Moke’ 
an’ be pursooed be a mob iv abolitionists till he’s 
dhriven to seek polis protection, which, Hinnissy, 
is th’ polite name f’r fracture iv th’ skull. 

“ I was f’r sthrikin’ off th’ shackles iv th’ slave, 
me la-ad. ’Twas thrue I didn’t vote f’r it, bein’ 
that I heerd Stephen A. Douglas say ’twas oncon- 
stitootional, an’ in thim days I wud go to th’ flure 
with anny man f’r th’ constitootion. I’m still 
with it, but not sthrong. It’s movin’ too fast f’r me. 
But no matther. Annyhow I was f’r makin’ th’ 
black man free, an’ though I shtud be th’ south as 
a spoortin’ proposition I was kind iv glad in me 
heart whin Gin’ral Ulyss S. Grant bate Gin’ral Lee 
an’ th’ rest iv th’ Union officers captured Jeff Davis. 
I says to mesilfi 4 Now,’ I says, ’th’ coon ’ll have a 
chanst f’r his life,’ says I, 4 an’ in due time we may 
injye him,’ I says. 

44 An’ sure enough it looked good f’r awhile, an* 
th’ time come whin th’ occas’nal dollar bill that 
wint acrost this bar on pay night wasn’t good mon- 
ey onless it had th’ name iv th’ naygur on it. In 
thim days they was a young la-ad — a frind iv wan 
[ 2 . 8 ] 


THE NEGRO PROBLEM 

iv th’ Donohue boys — that wint to th’ public school 
up beyant, an’ he was as bright a la-ad as ye’d want 
to see in a day’s walk. Th’ lamin’ iv him wud sind 
Father Kelly back to his grammar. He cud spell 
to make a hare iv th’ hedge schoolmasther, he was 
as quick at figures as th’ iddycated pig they showed 
in th’ tint las’ week in Haley’s vacant lot, and in 
joggerphy, asthronomy, algybbera, jommethry, chim- 
isthry, physiojnomy, bassoophly an’ fractions, I was 
often har-rd put mesilf to puzzle him. I heerd him 
gradyooate an’ his composition was so fine very 
few cud make out what he meant. 

44 I met him on th’ sthreet wan day afther he got 
out iv school. 6 What ar-re ye goin’ to do f ’r ye’er- 
silf, Snowball,’ says I — his name was Andhrew Jack- 
son George Wash’n’ton Americus Caslateras Beres- 
ford Vanilla Hicks, but I called him 4 Snowball,’ 
him bein’ as black as coal, d’ye see — I says to him : 
4 What ar-re ye goin’ to do f’r ye’ersilf ’ I says. 
4 I’m goin’ to enther th’ profission iv law,’ he says, 
4 where be me acooman an’ industhry I hope,’ he 
says, 4 f’r to rise to be a judge,’ he says, 4 a congriss- 
man,’ he says, 4 a sinator,’ he says, 4 an’ p’rhaps,’ he 
says, 4 a prisidint iv th’ United States,’ he says. 
4 Theyse nawthin to prevint,’ he says. 4 Divvle a 
thing,’ says I. 4 Whin we made ye free,’ says I, 
[ 21 9 ] 


THE NEGRO PROBLEM 


‘ we opened up all these opportunities to ye,’ says 
I. 4 Go on,’ says I, 4 an’ enjye th’ wealth an’ posi- 
tion conferred on ye be th’ constitootion,’ I says. 
4 On’y,’ I says, 4 don’t be too free,’ I says. 4 Th’ 
freedom iv th’ likes iv ye is a good thing an’ a little 
iv it goes a long way,’ I says, 4 an’ if I ever hear iv 
ye bein’ prisidint iv th’ United States,’ I says, 4 I’ll 
take me whitewashing’ away fr’m ye’er father, ye 
excelsior hair, poached-egg eyed, projiny iv tar,’ I 
says, f’r me Anglo-Saxon feelin’ was sthrong in 
thim days. 

44 W ell, I used to hear iv him afther that defind- 
in’ coons in th’ polis coort, an’ now an’ thin bein’ 
mintioned among th’ scatthrin’ in raypublican coun- 
ty con-vintions, an’ thin he dhropped out iv sight. 
’Twas years befure I see him again. Wan day I 
was walkin’ up th’ levee smokin’ a good tin cint 
seegar whin a coon wearin’ a suit iv clothes that 
looked like a stained glass window in th’ house iv 
a Dutch brewer an’ a pop bottle in th’ fr-ront iv his 
shirt, steps up to me an’ he says : 4 How dy’e do, 
Mistah Dooley,’ says he. 4 Don’t ye know me— 
Mistah Hicks ? ’ he says. 4 Snowball,’ says I. 4 Step 
inside this dureway,’ says I, 4 less Clancy, th’ polis- 
man on th’ corner, takes me f’r an octoroon,’ I says. 
4 What ar-re ye do-in’ ? ’ says I. 4 How did ye en- 
[ 220 ] 


THE NEGRO PROBLEM 


jye th’ prisidincy ? ’ says I. He laughed an told 
me th’ story iv his life. He wint to practisin’ law 
an’ found his on’y clients was coons, an’ they had no 
assets but their vote at th’ prim’ry. Besides a war- 
rant f’r a moke was the same as a letther iv inthro- 
duction to th’ warden iv th’ pinitinchry. Th’ on’y 
thing left f’r th’ lawyer to do was to move f’r a new 
thrile an’ afther he’d got two or three he thought ol’ 
things was th’ best an’ ye do well to lave bad enough 
alone. He got so sick iv chicken he cudden’t live 
on his fees an* he quit th’ law an’ wint into journal- 
ism. He r-run ‘Th’ Colored Supplimint,’ but it 
was a failure, th’ taste iv th’ public lanin’ more to 
quadhroon publications, an’ no man that owned a 
resthrant or theaytre or dhrygoods store’d put in an 
adver-tisemint f’r fear th’ subscribers’d see it an’ 
come ar-round. Thin he attimpted to go into 
pollytics, an’ th’ best he cud get was carryin’ a 
bucket iv wather f’r a Lincoln Club. He thried to 
larn a thrade an’ found th’ on’y place a naygur can 
larn a thrade is in prison an’ he can’t wurruk at that 
without committin’ burglary. He started to take 
up subscriptions f’r a sthrugglin’ church an’ found 
th’ pro fission was overcrowded. ‘ Fin’ly,’ says he, 
‘ ’twas up to me to be a porther in a saloon or go 
into th’ on’y business,’ he says, 4 in which me race 
[221 ] 


THE NEGRO PROBLEM 


has a chanst,’ he says. 4 What’s that ? ’ says I. 
4 Craps,’ says he. 4 I’ve opened a palachal impory- 
ium,’ he says, 4 where,’ he says, 4 ’twud please me 
very much,’ he says, 4 me oP abolitionist frind,’ he 
says, 4 if ye’d dhrop in some day,’ he says, 4 an’ I’ll 
roll th’ sweet, white bones f ’r ye,’ he says. 4 ’Tis 
th’ hope iv me people,’ he says. 4 We have an 
even chanst at ivry other pursoot,’ he says, 4 but 
’tis on’y in craps we have a shade th’ best iv it,’ he 
says. 

44 So there ye ar-re, Hinnissy. An’ what’s it goin’ 
to come to, says ye ? Faith, I don’t know an’ th’ 
naygurs don’t know, an’ be hivins, I think if th’ 
lady that wrote th’ piece we used to see at th’ Hal- 
sted Sthreet Opry House come back to earth, she 
wudden’t know. I used to be all broke up about 
Uncle Tom, but cud I give him a job tindin’ bar in 
this here liquor store ^ I freed th’ slave, Hinnissy, 
but, faith, I think ’twas like tur-rnin’ him out iv a 
panthry into a cellar.” 

44 Well, they got to take their chances,” said Mr. 
Hennessy. 44 Ye can’t do annything more f’r thim 
than make thim free.” 

44 Ye can’t,” said Mr. Dooley; 44 on’y whin ye tell 
thim they’re free they know we’re on’y sthringin’ 
thim.” 


[222 ] 


15 he AMERICAN STAGE 


’VE niver been much iv a hand f’r th’ 
theaytre,” said Mr. Dooley. “Whin 
I was a young man an’ Crosby’s Opry 
house was r-runnin’ I used to go down 
wanst in a while an’ see Jawn Dillon throwin’ things 
around f’r th’ amusemint iv th’ popylace an’ whin 
Shakespere was played I often had a seat in th’ 
gal’ry, not because I liked th’ actin’, d’ye mind, but 
because I’d heerd me frind Hogan speak iv Shake- 
spere. He was a good man, that Shakespere, but 
his pieces is full iv th’ ol’ gags that I heerd whin 
I was a boy. Th’ throuble with me about goin’ to 
plays is that no matther where I set I cud see some 
hired man in his shirt sleeves argyin’ with wan iv 
his frinds about a dog fight while Romeo was 
makin’ th’ kind iv love ye wuddent want ye’er 

[ 22 3 ] 



THE AMERICAN STAGE 


daughter to hear to Juliet in th’ little bur-rd cage 
they calls a balcony. It must ’ve been because I 
wanst knowed a man be th’ name iv Gallagher that 
was a scene painter that I cud niver get mesilf to 
th’ pint iv concedin’ that th’ mountains that other 
people agreed was manny miles in th’ distance was 
in no danger iv bein’ rubbed off th’ map be th’ coat- 
tails iv wan iv th’ principal char-ackters. An’ I al- 
ways had me watch out to time th’ moon whin ’twas 
shoved acrost th’ sky an’ th’ record breakin’ iv day 
in th’ robbers’ cave where th’ robbers don’t dare f’r to 
shtep on the rock f’r fear they’ll stave it in. If day 
iver broke on th’ level th’ way it does on th’ stage 
’twud tear th’ bastin’ threads out iv what Hogan 
calls th’ firmymint. Hogan says I haven’t got th’ 
dhramatic delusion an’ he must be r-right f’r ye can’t 
make me believe that twinty years has elapsed whin 
I know that I’ve on’y had time to pass th’ time iv 
day with th’ bartinder nex’ dure. 

“ Plays is upside down, Hinnissy, an’ inside out. 
They begin with a full statement iv what’s goin’ to 
happen an’ how it’s goin’ to come out an’ thin ye’re 
asked to forget what ye heerd an’ be surprised be th’ 
outcome. I always feel like goin’ to th’ office an’ 
gettin’ me money or me lithograph pass back afther 
th’ first act. 


[224] 


THE AMERICAN STAGE 

44 Th’ way to write a play is f’r to take a book an’ 
write it over hindend foremost. They’re puttin’ all 
books on th’ stage nowadays. Fox’s 4 Book iv Mar- 
tyrs’ has been done into a three-act farce-comedy 
an’ll be projooced be Della Fox, th’ author, nex’ 
summer. Webster’s ‘Onabridge Ditchnry ’ will be 
brought out as a society dhrama with eight hund- 
herd thousan’ char-ackters. Th’ 4 Constitution iv th’ 
United States ’ (a farce) be Willum McKinley 
is r-runnin’ to packed houses with th’ cillybrated 
thradeejan Aggynaldoo as th’ villain. In th’ six- 
teenth scene iv th’ last act they’se a naygur lynchin’. 
James H. Wilson, th’ author iv 4 Silo an’ Ensilage, 
a story f’r boys,’ is dhramatizin’ his cillybrated 
wurruk an’ will follow it with a dhramatic version 
iv 4 Sugar Beet Culture,’ a farm play. 4 Th’ Famil- 
iar Lies iv Li Hung Chang ’ is expicted to do well 
in th’ provinces an’ Hostetter’s Almanac has all 
dates filled, I undherstand th’ bible’ll be r-ready 
f’r th’ stage undher th’ direction iv Einstein an’ Op- 
perman befure th’ first iv th’ year. Some changes 
has been niciss’ry f’r to adapt it to stage purposes, 
I see be th’ pa-apers. Th’ authors has become con- 
vinced that Adam an’ Eve must be carrid through 
th’ whole play, so they have considerably lessened 
th’ time between th’ creation an’ th’ flood an’ have 
[225] 


THE AMERICAN STAGE 


made Adam an English nobleman with a shady past 
an’ th’ Divvle a Fr-rinch count in love with Eve. 
They’re rescued be Noah, th’ faithful boatman who 
has a comic naygur son.” 

“ I see be th’ pa-aper th’ stage is goin’ to th’ dogs 
what with it’s Sappho’s an’ th’ like iv that,” said Mr. 
Hennessy. 

“ Well, it isn’t what it used to be,” said Mr. 
Dooley, “ in t*h’ days whin ’twas th’ purpose iv th’ 
hero to save th’ honest girl from the clutches iv 
th’ villin in time to go out with him an’ have a 
shell iv beer at th’ Dutchman’s downstairs. In th’ 
plays nowadays th’ hero is more iv a villain thin th’ 
villain himsilf. He’s th’ sort iv a man that we used 
to heave pavin’ shtones at whin he come out iv th’ 
stage dure iv th’ Halsted Sthreet Opry House. To 
be a hero ye’ve first got to be an Englishman, an’ as 
if that wasn’t bad enough ye’ve got to have com- 
mitted as many crimes as th’ late H. H. Holmes. 
If he’d been born in England he’d be a hero. Ye 
marry a woman who swears an’ dhrinks an’ bets on 
th’ races an’ ye quarrel with her. Th’ r-rest iv th’ 
play is made up iv hard cracks be all th’ char-ack- 
ters at each others’ morals. This is called repartee 
be th’ learned, an’ Hogan. Repartee is where I 
say : ‘Ye stole a horse ’ an’ ye say : ‘ But think iv 
[226] 


THE AMERICAN STAGE 

ye’er wife ! ’ In Ar-rchy r-road ’tis called disordherly 
conduct. They’se another play on where a man 
r-runs off with a woman that’s no betther thin she 
ought to be. He bates her an’ she marries a burg- 
lar. Another wan is about a lady that ates dinner 
with a German. He bites her an’ she hits him with 
a cabbage. Thin they’se a play about an English 
gintleman iv th’ old school who thries to make a 
girl write a letter f ’r him an’ if she don’t he’ll tell on 
her. He doesn’t tell an’ so he’s rewarded with th’ 
love iv th’ heroine, an honest English girl out f’r th’ 
money. 

“ Nobody’s marrid in th’ modhern play, Hin- 
nissy, an’ that’s a good thing, too, f’r annywan that 
got marrid wud have th’ worst iv it. In th’ ol’ 
times th’ la-ads that announces what’s goin’ to hap- 
pen in the first act, always promised ye a happy mar- 
redge in th’ end an’ as ivrybody’s lookin’ f’r a hap- 
py marredge, that held the aujeence. Now ye know 
that th’ hero with th’ wretched past is goin’ to elope 
with th’ dhrunken lady an’ th’ play is goin’ to end 
with th’ couples prettily divorced in th’ centher iv 
th’ stage. ’Tis called real life an’ mebbe that’s what 
it is, but f’r me I don’t want to see real life on th’ 
stage. I can see that anny day. What I want is 
f’r th’ spotless gintleman to saw th’ la-ad with th’ 

[ 22 7 ] 


THE AMERICAN STAGE 


cigareet into two-be-fours an’ marry th’ lady that 
doesn’t dhrink much while th’ aujeence is puttin’ on 
their coats.” 

“ Why don’t they play Shakespere any more ? ” 
Mr. Hennessy asked. 

64 1 undherstand,” said Mr. Dooley, “that they’re 
goin’ to dhramatize Shakespere whin th’ dhramatizer 
gets through with th’ 4 Report iv th’ Cinsus Depart- 
ment f’r 1899-1900.’ ” 


[228] 


TROUBLES OF A 
CANDIDATE 


WISHT th’ campaign was over,” said 
Mr. Dooley. 

“ I wisht it’d begin,” said Mr. Hen- 
nessy. “ I niver knew annything so 
dead. They ain’t been so much as a black eye give 
or took in th’ ward an’ its less thin two months to 
th’ big day.” 

“’Twill liven up,” said Mr. Dooley, “I begin to 
see signs iv th’ good times cornin’ again. ’Twas 
on’y th’ other day me frind Tiddy Rosenfelt opened 
th’ battle mildly be insinuatin’ that all dimmycrats 
was liars, horse thieves an’ arnychists. ’Tis thrue he 
apologized f ’r that be explainin’ that he didn’t mean 
all dimmycrats but on’y those that wudden’t vote 
f ’r Mack but I think he’ll take th’ copper off befure 
manny weeks. A ladin’ dimmycratic rayformer has 

[229] 



TROUBLES OF A CANDIDATE 


suggested that Mack though a good man f ’r an 
idjiot is surrounded be th’ vilest scoundhrels iver 
seen in public life since th’ days iv Joolyus Caesar. 
Th’ Sicrety iv th’ Threeasury has declared, that Mr. 
Bryan in sayin’ that silver is not convartible be th’ 
terms iv th’ Slatthry bankin’ law iv 1870, an’ th’ 
sicond clause iv th’ threaty iv Gansville, has com- 
mitted th’ onpard’nable pollytical sin iv so con- 
sthructin’ th’ facts as to open up th’ possibility iv 
wan not knowin’ th’ thrue position iv affairs, misun- 
dhersthandin’ intirely. If he had him outside he’d 
call him a liar. Th’ raypublicans have proved that 
Willum Jennings Bryan is a thraitor be th’ letther 
written be Dr. Lem Stoggins, th’ cillybrated anti- 
thought agytator iv Spooten Duyvil to Aggynaldoo 
in which he calls upon him to do nawthin’ till he 
hears fr’m th’ doc. Th’ letther was sint through th’ 
postal authorities an’ as they have established no 
post-office in Aggynaldoo’s hat they cudden’t de- 
liver it an’ they opened it. Upon r-readin’ th’ 
letther Horace Plog iv White Horse, Minnesota, has 
wrote to Willum Jennings Bryan declarin’ that if 
he (Plog) iver went to th’ Ph’lippeens, which he 
wud’ve done but f’r th’ way th’ oats was sproutin’ 
in th’ stack, an’ had been hit with a bullet he’d ix- 
pict th’ Coroner to hold Bryan to th’ gran’ jury. 

[230] 


TROUBLES OF A CANDIDATE 


This was followed be th’ publication iv a letther 
fr’m Oscar L. Swub iv East Persepalis, Ohio, de- 
clarin’ that his sister heerd a cousin iv th’ man that 
wash’d buggies in a livery stable in Canton say 
Mack’s hired man tol’ him Mack’d be hanged be- 
fore he’d withdraw th’ ar-rmy fr’m Cuba. 

44 Oh, I guess th’ campaign is doin’ as well as cud 
be ixpicted. I see be th’ raypublican pa-apers that 
Andhrew Carnegie has come out f ’r Bryan an’ has 
conthributed wan half iv his income or five hundhred 
millyon dollars to th’ campaign fund. In th’ dim- 
mycratic pa-apers I r-read that Chairman Jim Jones 
has inthercipted a letther fr’m the Prince iv Wales 
to Mack congratulatin’ him on his appintmint as 
gintleman-in-waitin’ to th’ queen. A dillygation iv 
Mormons has started fr’m dimmycratic head- 
quarthers to thank Mack f’r his manly stand in fa- 
vor iv poly-gamy an’ th’ raypublican comity has un- 
dher con-sideration a letther fr’m long term criminals 
advisin’ their colleagues at large to vote f’r Willum 
Jennings Bryan, th’ frind iv crime. 

44 In a few short weeks, Hinnissy, ’twill not be 
safe f’r ayether iv the candydates to come out on th’ 
fr-ront porch till th’ waitin’ dillygations has been 
searched be a polisman. ’Tis th’ divvle’s own time 
th’ la-ads that r-runs f’r th’ prisidincy has since that 

[231 ] 


TROUBLES OF A CANDIDATE 


ol’ boy Burchard broke loose again’ James G. 
Blaine. Sinitor Jones calls wan iv his thrusty 
hinchman to his side, an’ says he : ‘ Mike, put on a 

pig-tail, an’ a blue shirt an’ take a dillygation iv 
Chinnymen out to Canton an’ congratulate Mack 
on th’ murdher iv mission’ries in China. An’,’ he 
says, ‘ye might stop off at Cincinnati on th’ way 
over an’ arrange f’r a McKinley an’ Rosenfelt club 
to ilict th’ British Consul its prisidint an’ attack 
th’ office iv th’ German newspaper,’ he says. Mark 
Hanna rings f’r his sicrety an’, says he : ‘ Have ye 

got off th’ letther fr’m George Fred Willums advisin’ 
Aggynaldoo to pizen th’ wells *? ’ ‘Yes sir.’ ‘An’ 
th’ secret communication fr’m Bryan found on an 
arnychist at Pattherson askin’ him to blow up th’ 
White House ’ ‘ It’s in th’ hands iv th’ tyepwriter.’ 
‘ Thin call up an employmint agency an’ have a 
dillygation iv Jesuites dhrop in at Lincoln, with a 
message fr’m th’ pope proposin’ to bur-rn all Prot- 
estant churches th’ night befure diction.’ 

“ I tell ye, Hinnissy, th’ candydate is kept mov- 
in’. Whin he sees a dilly-gation pikin’ up th’ lawn 
he must be r-ready. He makes a flyin’ leap f’r th’ 
chairman, seizes him by th’ throat an’ says : ‘ I 

thank ye f’r th’ kind sintimints ye have conveyed. 
I am, indeed, as ye have remarked, th’ riprisintative 

[ 2 3 2 ] 


TROUBLES OF A CANDIDATE 


iv th’ party iv manhood, honor, courage, liberality 
an 5 American thraditions. Take that back to Jimmy 
Jones an’ tell him to put it in his pipe an’ smoke 
it.’ With which he bounds into th’ house an’ locks 
the dure while th’ baffled conspirators goes down to 
a costumer an’ changes their disguise. If th’ future 
prisidint hadn’t been quick on th’ dhraw he’d been 
committed to a policy iv sthranglin’ all the girl 
babies at birth. 

“No, ’tis no aisy job bein’ a candydate, an’ ’twud 
be no easy job if th’ game iv photygraphs was th’ 
on’y wan th’ candydates had to play. Willum Jen- 
nings Bryan is photygraphed smilin’ back at his 
smilin’ corn fields, in a pair iv blue overalls with a 
scythe in his hand borrid fr’m th’ company that’s 
playin’ 4 Th’ Ol’ Homestead,’ at th’ Lincoln Gran’ 
Opry House. Th’ nex’ day Mack is seen mendin’ 
a rustic chair with a monkey wrinch, Bryan has a 
pitcher took in th’ act iv puttin’ on a shirt marked 
with th’ union label, an’ they’se another photygraph 
iv Mack carryin’ a scuttle iv coal up th’ cellar 
stairs. An’ did ye iver notice how much th’ candy- 
dates looks alike, an’ how much both iv thim looks 
like Lydia Pinkham*? Thim wondherful boardhin’- 
house smiles that our gifted leaders wears, did ye 
iver see annythin’ so entrancin’*? Whin th’ las’ 

[ 2 33 ] 


TROUBLES OF A CANDIDATE 


photygrapher has packed his ar-rms homeward I can 
see th’ gr-reat men retirin’ to their rooms an’ lettin’ 
their faces down f’r a few minyits befure puttin’ 
thim up again in curl-pa-apers f’r th’ nex’ day dis- 
play. Glory be, what a relief ’twill be f’r wan iv 
thim to raysume permanently th’ savage or fam’ly 
breakfast face th’ mornin’ afther diction ! What a 
raylief ’twill be to no f’r sure that th’ man at th’ 
dure bell is on’y th’ gas collector an’ isn’t loaded 
with a speech iv thanks in behalf iv th’ Spanish 
Gover’mint ! What a relief to snarl at wife an’ 
frinds wanst more, to smoke a seegar with th’ thrust 
magnate that owns th’ cider facthry near th’ station, 
to take ye’er nap in th’ afthernoon undisthurbed be 
th’ chirp iv th’ snap-shot ! ’Tis th’ day afther dic- 
tion I’d like f’r to be a candydate, Hinnissy, no 
matther how it wint.” 

“An’ what’s become iv th’ vice-prisidintial can- 
dydates ” Mr. Hennessy asked. 

“Well,” said Mr. Dooley, “Th’ las’ I heerd iv 
Adly, I didn’t hear annythin’, an’ th’ las’ I heerd iv 
Tiddy he’d made application to th’ naytional com- 
ity f’r th’ use iv Mack as a soundin’ board.” 


[234] 


A BACHELOR’S LIFE 


T’S always been a wondher to me,” said 
Mr. Hennessy, “ ye niver marrid.” 

“ It’s been a wondher to manny,” 
Mr. Dooley replied haughtily. “ May- 
be if I’d been as aisy pleased as most — an’ this is 
not sayin’ annything again you an’ ye’ers, Hinnisy, 
f ’r ye got much th’ best iv it — I might be th’ 
father iv happy childher an’ have money in th’ bank 
awaitin’ th’ day whin th’ intherest on th’ morgedge 
fell due. ’Tis not f’r lack iv opporchunities I’m 
here alone, I tell ye that me bucko, f’r th’ time was 
whin th’ sound iv me feet’d brings more heads to th’ 
windies iv Ar-rchey r-road thin’d bob up to see 
ye’er fun’ral go by. An’ that’s manny a wan.” 

“ Ah, well,” said Mr. Hennessy, “ I was but jok- 
in’ ye.” His tone mollified his friend, who went on : 
“ To tell ye th’ truth, Hinnissy, th’ raison I niver 
got marrid was I niver cud pick a choice. I’ve th’ 

[235] 



A BACHELORS LIFE 

makin’ iv an ixcillint ol’ Turk in me, to be sure, 
f’r I look on all the sect as iligeable f’r me hand an’ 
I’m on’y resthrained fr’m r-rentin’ Lincoln Park f’r 
a home an’ askin’ thim all to clave on’y to me, be 
me nachral modesty an’ th’ laws iv th’ State iv II- 
linye. ’Twas always so with me an’ I think it is so 
with most men that dies bachelors. Be r-readin’ 
th’ pa-apers ye’d think a bachelor was a man bor-rn 
with a depraved an’ parvarse hathred iv wan iv our 
most cherished institootions, an’ anti-expansionist 
d’ye mind. But ’tis no such thing. A bachelor’s 
a man that wud extind his benificint rule over all 
th’ female wurruld, fr’m th’ snow-capped girls iv 
Alaska to th’ sunny dleens iv th’ Passyfic. A mar- 
rid man’s a person with a limited affection — a pro- 
tictionist an’ anti-expansionist, a mugwump, be 
hivins. ’Tis th’ bachelor that’s keepin’ alive th’ 
rivrince f’r th’ sect. 

“ Whin I was a young man, ye cud search fr’m 
wan end iv th’ town to th’ other f’r me akel with 
th’ ladies. Ye niver see me in them days, but ’twas 
me had a rogue’s eye an’ a leg far beyant th’ com- 
mon r-run iv props. I cud dance with th’ best iv 
thim, me voice was that sthrong ’twas impossible to 
hear annywan else whin I sung 6 Th’ Pretty Maid 
Milkin’ th’ Cow,’ an’ I was dhressed to kill on Sun- 

[236] 


A BACHELOR’S LIFE 


dahs. ’Twas thin I bought th’ hat ye see me wear 
at th’ picnic. ’Twas ‘Good mornin’, Misther Doo- 
ley, an’ will ye come in an’ have a cup iv tay,’ an’ 
‘ How d’ye do Misther Dooley, I didn’t see ye at 
mass this mornin’,’ an’ ‘ Martin, me boy, dhrop in 
an’ take a hand at forty-fives. Th’ young ladies 
has been askin’ me ar-re ye dead.’ I was th’ pop’- 
lar idol, ye might say, an’ manny’s th’ black look I 
got over th’ shouldher at picnic an’ wake. But I 
minded thim little. If a bull again me come fr’m 
th’ pope himsilf in thim days whin me heart was 
high, I’d tuck it in me pocket an’ say : ‘ I’ll r-read 
it whin I get time.’ 

“ Well, I’d take one iv th’ girls out in me horse 
an’ buggy iv a Sundah an’ I’d think she was th’ 
finest in th’ wurruld an’ I’d be sayin’ all kinds iv 
jokin’ things to her about marredge licenses bein’ 
marked down on account iv th’ poor demand an’ 
how th’ parish priest was thinkin’ iv bein’ trans- 
ferred to a parish where th’ folks was more kindly 
disposed to each other an’ th’ likes iv that, whin 
out iv th’ corner iv me eye I’d see another girl go 
by, an’ bless me if I cud keep th’ lid iv me r-right 
eye still or hold me tongue fr’m such unfortchnit 
remark as : ‘ That there Molly Heaney’s th’ fine 
girl, th’ fine, sthrappin’ girl, don’t ye think so ’ 

[237] 


A BACHELOR'S LIFE 


Well, ye know, afther that I might as well be 
dhrivin’ an ice wagon as a pleasure rig; more thin 
wanst I near lost th’ tip iv me nose in th’ jamb iv 
th’ dure thryin’ to give an affictshionate farewell. 
An’ so it wint on, till I got th’ repytation iv a flirt 
an’ a philandhrer f’r no raison at all, d’ye mind, 
but me widespread fondness. I like thim all, dark 
an’ light, large an’ small, young an’ old, marrid an’ 
single, widdied an’ divorced, an’ so I niver marrid 
annywan. But ye’ll find me photygraft in some 
albums an’ me bills in more thin wan livery stable. 

“ I think marrid men gets on th’ best f’r they 
have a home an’ fam’ly to lave in th’ mornin’ an’ 
a home an’ fam’ly to go back to at night; that 
makes thim wurruk. Some men’s domestic throu- 
bles dhrives thim to dhrink, others to labor. Ye 
r-read about a man becomin’ a millyonaire an’ ye 
think he done it be his own exertions whin ’tis 
much again little ’twas th’ fear iv cornin’ home 
impty handed an’ dislike iv stayin’ ar-round th’ 
house all day that made him rich. Misther Stand- 
ard lie takes in millyons in a year but he might be 
playin’ dominoes in an injine house if it wasn’t f’r 
Mrs. Standard lie. ’Tis th’ thought iv that dear 
quiet lady at home, in her white cap with her ca’m 
motherly face, waitin’ patiently f’r him with a belh 

[238] 


A BACHELOR’S LIFE 


punch that injooces him to put a shtick iv dinny- 
mite in somebody else’s ile well an’ bury his se- 
curities whin th’ assissor comes ar-round. Near 
ivry man’s property ought to be in wife’s name an’ 
most iv it is. 

“But with a bachelor ’tis diff’rent. Ye an’ I 
ar-re settin’ here together an’ Clancy dhrops in. 
Clancy’s wife’s away an’ he’s out f ’r a good time an’ 
he comes to me f ’r it. A bachelor’s f’r th’ enjy^ 
mint of his marrid frinds’ vacations. Whin Clancy’s 
wife’s at home an’ I go to see him he r-runs th’ pail 
out in a valise, an’ we take our criminal dhrink in 
th’ woodshed. Well, th’ three iv us sits here an’ 
pass th’ dhrink an’ sing our songs iv glee till about 
ilivin o’clock ; thin ye begin to look over ye’er 
shouldher ivry time ye hear a woman’s voice an’ 
fin’lly ye get up an’ yawn an’ dhrink ivrything on 
th’ table an’ gallop home. Clancy an’ I raysume 
our argymint on th’ Chinese sityation an’ afterwards 
we carol together me singin’ th’ chune an’ him 
doin’ a razor edge tinor. Thin he tells me how 
much he cares f’r me an’ proposes to rassle me 
an’ weeps to think how bad he threats his wife an’ 
begs me niver to marry, f’r a bachelor’s life’s th’ 
on’y wan, an’ ’tis past two o’clock whin I hook him 
on a frindly polisman an’ sind him thrioDin’ — th’ 

[239] 


A BACHELOR’S LIFE 


polisman — down th’ sthreet. All r-right so far. 
But in th’ mornin’ another story. If Clancy gets 
home an’ finds his wife’s rayturned fr’m th’ seaside 
or th’ stock yards, or whereiver ’tis she’s spint her 
vacation, they’se no r-rest f ’r him in th’ mornin’. 
His head may sound in his ears like a automobill 
an’ th’ look iv an egg may make his knees thremble, 
but he’s got to be off to th’ blacksmith shop, an’ 
hiven help his helper that mornin’. So Clancy’s 
gettin’ r-rich an’ puttin’ a coopoly on his house. 

“But with me ’tis diff’rent. Whin Phibbius 
Apollo as Hogan calls th’ sun, raises his head above 
th’ gas house, I’m cuddled up in me couch an’ 
Morpus, gawd iv sleep, has a sthrangle holt on 
me. Th’ alarm clock begins to go off an’ I’ve just 
sthrength enough to raise up an’ fire it through th’ 
window. Two hours aftherward I have a gleam iv 
human intillygince an’ hook me watch out fr’m 
undher th’ pillow. 4 It’s eight o’clock,’ says I. 
4 But is it eight in th’ mornin’ or eight in th’ even- 
in’?’ says I. 4 Faith, I dinnaw, an’ divvle a bit 
care I. Eight’s on’y a number,’ says I. 4 It ripri- 
sints nawthin’,’ says I. 44 They’se hours enough in 
th’ day f’r a free man. I’ll turr-n over an’ sleep till 
eight-wan and thin I’ll wake up refrished,’ I says. 
’Tis ilivin o’clock whin me tired lids part f’r good 
[240] 


A BACHELOR’S LIFE 


an’ Casey has been here to pay me eight dollars an’ 
findin’ me not up has gone away f ’r another year. 

“A marrid man gets th’ money, Hinnissy, but a 
bachelor man gets th’ sleep. Whin all me marrid 
frinds is off to wurruk poundin’ th’ ongrateful sand 
an’ wheelin’ th’ rebellyous slag, in th’ heat iv th’ 
afthernoon, ye can see ye’er onfortchnit bachelor 
frind perambulatin’ up an’ down th’ shady side iv 
th’ sthreet, with an umbrelly over his head an’ a 
wurrud iv cheer fr’m young an’ old to enliven his 
loneliness.” 

“ But th’ childher ? ” asked Mr. Hennessy slyly. 

“ Childher ! ” said Mr. Dooley. “ Sure I have 
th’ finest fam’ly in th’ city. Without scandal I’m 
th’ father iv ivry child in Ar-rchey r-road fr’m end 
to end.” 

“ An’ none iv ye’er own,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“ I wish to hell, Hinnissy,” said Mr. Dooley 
savagely, “ ye’d not lean against that mirror, I don’t 
want to have to tell ye again. 


[241 ] 


THE EDUCATION OF 
THE YOUNG 


HE troubled Mr. Hennessy had been 
telling Mr. Dooley about the difficulty 
of making a choice of schools for 
Packy Hennessy, who at the age of 
six was at the point where the family must decide 
his career. 

“ ’Tis a big question,” said Mr. Dooley, “ an’ wan 
that seems to be worryin’ th’ people more thin it 
used to whin ivry boy was designed f ’r th’ priest- 
hood, with a full undherstandin’ be his parents that 
th’ chances was in favor iv a brick yard. Now- 
adays they talk about th’ edycation iv th’ child 
befure they choose th’ name. ’Tis : 6 Th’ kid talks 
in his sleep. ’Tis th’ fine lawyer he’ll make.’ Or, 
‘Did ye notice him admirin’ that photygraph*? 
He’ll be a gr-reat journalist.’ Or, ‘Look at him 

[243] 



EDUCATION of the YOUNG 

fishin’ in Uncle Tim's watch pocket. We must 
thrain him f ’ r a banker.’ Or, ‘ I’m afraid he’ll niver 
be sthrong enough to wurruk. He must go into 
th’ church.’ Befure he’s baptized too, d’ye mind. 
’Twill not be long befure th’ time comes whin th’ 
soggarth’ll christen th’ infant: ‘Judge Pathrick 
Aloysius Hinnissy, iv th’ Northern District iv 
Illinye,’ or ‘ Profissor P. Aloysius Hinnissy, LL.D., 
S.T.D., P.G.N., iv th’ faculty iv Nothre Dame.’ 
Th’ innocent child in his cradle, wondherin’ what 
ails th’ mist iv him an’ where he got such funny 
lookin’ parents fr’m, has thim to blame that brought 
him into th’ wurruld if he dayvilops into a sicond 
story man befure he’s twinty-wan an’ is took up be 
th’ polis. Why don’t you lade Packy down to th’ 
occylist an’ have him fitted with a pair iv eye- 
glasses^ Why don’t ye put goloshes on him, give 
him a blue umbrelly an’ call him a doctor at wanst 
an’ be done with it^ 

“To my mind, Hinnissy, we’re wastin’ too much 
time thinkin’ iv th’ future iv our young, an’ thryin’ 
to larn thim early what they oughtn’t to know till 
they’ve growed up. We sind th’ childher to school 
as if ’twas a summer garden where they go to be 
amused instead iv a pinitinchry where they’re sint 
f ’r th’ original sin. Whin I was a la-ad I was put 

[2+4] 


Uhe EDUCATION of the YOUNG 

at me ah-bee abs, th’ first day I set fut in th’ school 
behind th’ hedge an’ me head was sore inside an’ 
out befure I wint home. Now th’ first thing we 
larn th’ future Mark Hannas an’ Jawn D. Gateses 
iv our naytion is waltzin’, singin’, an’ cuttin’ pitchers 
out iv a book. We’d be much betther teachin’ thim 
th’ sthrangle hold, f ’r that’s what they need in life. 

“I know what’ll happen. Ye’ll sind Packy to 
what th’ Germans call a Kindygartin, an’ ’tis a 
good thing f’r Germany, because all a German 
knows is what some wan tells him, an’ his grajation 
papers is a certy-ficate that he don’t need to think 
anny more. But we’ve inthrajooced it into this 
counthry, an’ whin I was down seein’ if I cud in- 
jooce Rafferty, th’ Janitor iv th’ Isaac Muggs Gram- 
mar School, f’r to vote f’r Riordan — an’ he’s goin’ 
to — I dhropped in on Cassidy’s daughter, Mary 
Ellen, an’ see her kindygartnin’. Th’ childher was 
settin’ ar-round on th’ flure an’ some was moldin’ 
dachshunds out iv mud an’ wipin’ their hands on 
their hair, an’ some was carvin’ figures iv a goat out 
iv paste-board an’ some was singin’ an’ some was 
sleepin’ an’ a few was dancin’ an’ wan la-ad was 
pullin’ another la-ads hair. ‘Why don’t ye take 
th’ coal shovel to that little barbaryan, Mary 
Ellen?’ says I. ‘We don’t believe in corporeal 

[245] 


13he EDUCATION of ihe YOUNG 

punishment/ says she. ‘ School shud be made 
pleasant f ’ r th’ childher,’ she says. 4 Th’ child who’s 
hair is bein’ pulled is lamin’ patience,’ she says, ‘ an’ 
th’ child that’s pullin’ th’ hair is discovrin’ th’ footil- 
ity iv human indeavor,’ says she. ‘Well, oh, well,’ 
says I, ‘times has changed since I was a boy,’ I 
says. ‘ Put thim through their exercises,’ says I. 
‘Tommy,’ says I, ‘spell cat,’ I says. ‘Go to th’ 
divvle,’ says th’ cheerub. ‘Very smartly answered,’ 
says Mary Ellen. ‘Ye shud not ask thim to spell,’ 
she says. ‘ They don’t lam that till they get to col- 
ledge,’ she says, ‘ an’ ’ she says, ‘ sometimes not even 
thin,’ she says. ‘ An’ what do they larn ’ says I. 
‘ Rompin’,’ she says, ‘ an’ dancin’,’ she says, ‘ an’ inde- 
pindance iv speech, an’ beauty songs, an’ sweet 
thoughts, an’ how to make home home-like,’ she 
says. ‘Well,’ says I, ‘I didn’t take anny iv thim 
things at colledge, so ye needn’t unblanket thim,’ I 
says. ‘ I won’t put thim through anny exercise to- 
day,’ I says. ‘But whisper, Mary Ellen,’ says I, 
‘Don’t ye niver feel like bastin’ th’ seeraphims?’ 
‘Th’ teachin’s iv Freebull and Pitzotly is conthrary 
to that,’ she says. ‘ But I’m goin’ to be marrid an’ 
lave th’ school on Choosdah, th’ twinty-sicond iv 
Janooary,’ she says, ‘ an’ on Mondah, th’ twinty- first, 
I’m goin’ to ask a few iv th’ little darlin’s to th’ 
[246] 


T5he EDUCATION of the YOUNG 

house anV she says, ‘stew thim over a slow fire,’ 
she says. Mary Ellen is not a German, Hinnissy. 

“Well, afther they have larned in school what 
they ar-re licked f ’r lamin’ in th’ back yard — that 
is squashin’ mud with their hands — they’re con- 
ducted up through a channel iv free an’ beautiful 
thought till they’re r-ready f ’r colledge. Mamma 
packs a few doylies an’ tidies into son’s bag, an’ 
some silver to be used in case iv throuble with th’ 
landlord, an’ th’ la-ad throts off to th’ siminary. If 
he’s not sthrong enough to look f ’r high honors as a 
middle weight pugilist he goes into th’ thought de- 
partmint. Th’ prisidint takes him into a Turkish 
room, gives him a cigareet an’ says : 4 Me dear boy, 
what special branch iv lamin’ wud ye like to have 
studied f’r ye be our compitint profissors? We 
have a chair iv Beauty an’ wan iv Puns an’ wan iv 
Pothry on th’ Changin’ Hues iv the Settin’ Sun, 
an’ wan on Platonic Love, an’ wan on Nonsense 
Rhymes, an’ wan on Sweet Thoughts, an’ wan on 
How Green Grows th’ Grass, an’ wan on’ th’ Rela- 
tion iv Ice to th’ Greek Idee iv God,’ he says. 
4 This is all ye’ll need to equip ye f’r th’ perfect 
life, onless,’ he says, 4 ye intind bein’ a dintist, in 
which case,’ he says, 4 we won’t think much iv ye, 
but we have a good school where ye can larn that 

[247] 


T5he EDUCATION of the YOUNG 


disgraceful thrade,’ he says. An’ th’ la-ad makes his 
choice, an’ ivry mornin’ whin he’s up in time he 
takes a whiff iv hasheesh an’ goes off to hear Profis- 
sor Maryanna tell him that ‘ if th’ dates iv human 
knowledge must be rejicted as subjictive, how 
much more mhst they be subjicted as rejictive if, as 
I think, we keep our thoughts fixed upon th’ in- 
anity iv th’ finite in comparison with th’ onthinkable 
truth with th’ ondivided an’ onimaginable reality. 
Boys ar-re ye with me % ’ 

“ That’s at wan colledge — Th’ Colledge iv 
Speechless Thought. Thin there’s th’ Colledge iv 
Thoughtless Speech, where th’ la-ad is larned that 
th’ best thing that can happen to annywan is to be 
prisident iv a railroad consolidation. Th’ head iv 
this colledge believes in thrainin’ young men f ’r th’ 
civic ideel, Father Kelly tells me. Th’ on’y thrain- 
in’ I know f ’r th’ civic ideel is to have an alarm 
clock in ye’er room on iliction day. He believes 
‘ young men shud be equipped with Courage, Dis- 
cipline, an’ Loftiness iv Purpose ; ’ so I suppose 
Packy, if he wint there, wud listen to lectures fr’m 
th’ Profissor iv Courage an’ Erasmus H. Noddle, 
Doctor iv Loftiness iv Purpose. I loft, ye loft, he 
lofts. I’ve always felt we needed some wan to teach 
our young th’ Courage they can’t get walkin’ home 
[248] 


T5he EDUCATION of the YOUNG 

in th’ dark, an’ th’ loftiness iv purpose that doesn’t 
start with bein’ hungry an’ lookin’ f ’r wurruk. An’ 
in th’ colledge where these studies are taught, its un- 
dhershtud that even betther thin gettin’ th’ civic 
ideel is bein’ head iv a thrust. Th’ on’y trouble 
with th’ coorse is that whin Packy comes out loaded 
with loftiness iv purpose, all th’ lofts is full iv men 
that had to figure it out on th’ farm.” 

“ I don’t undherstand a wurrud iv what ye’re say- 
in’,” said Mr. Hennesy. 

“No more do I,” said Mr. Dooley. “But I be- 
lieve ’tis as Father Kelly says : 4 Childher shudden’t 
be sint to school to larn, but to larn how to larn. I 
don’t care what ye larn thim so long as ’tis onpleas- 
ant to thim.’ ’Tis thrainin’ they need, Hinnissy. 
That’s all. I niver cud make use iv what I larned in 
colledge about thrigojoomethry an’ — an’ — grammar 
an’ th’ welts I got on th’ skull fr’m the schoolmas- 
ther’s cane I have nivver been able to turn to anny 
account in th’ business, but ’twas th’ bein’ there and 
havin’ to get things to heart without askin’ th’ mean- 
in’ iv thim an’ goin’ to school cold an’ cornin’ home 
hungry, that made th’ man iv me ye see befure ye.” 

“ That’s why th’ good woman’s throubled about 
Packy,” said Hennessy. 

“ Go home,” said Mr. Dooley. 

[249] 











“L’AIGLON” 


OGAN’S been tellin’ me iv a new play 
he r-read th’ other day,” said Mr. 
Dooley. “Tis be th’ same la-ad that 
wrote th’ piece they played down in th’ 
Christyan Brothers’ school last year about the man 
with th’ big nose, that wud dhraw a soord or a pome 
on e’er a man alive. This wan is called ‘ The Little 
Eagle,’ an’ ’tis about th’ son iv Napolyon th’ Impror 
iv th’ Fr-rinch, th’ first wan, not th’ wan I had th’ 
fight about in Schwartzmeister’s in eighteen hun- 
dhred an’ siventy. Bad cess to that man, he was no 
good. I often wondher why I shtud up f ’r him 
whin he had hardly wan frind in th’ counthry. 
But I did, an’ ye might say I’m a vethran iv th’ 
Napolyonic Wars. I am so. 

“ But th’ first Napolyon was a diff’rent man, an’ 
whin he died he left a son that th’ coorts tur-rned 
over to th’ custody iv his mother, th’ ol’ man bein’ 
on th’ island — th’ same place where Gin’ral Crown- 

[25 1] 



•• L’ AIGLON *’ 


joy is now. ’Tis about this la-ad th’ play’s writ- 
ten. He don’t look to be much account havin’ a 
hackin’ cough all through the piece, but down 
undherneath he wants to be impror iv th’ Fr-rinch 
like his father befure him, d’ye mind, on’y he don’t 
dare to go out f ’r it f ’r fear iv catchin’ a bad cold 
on his chist. Th’ Austhreeches that has charge iv 
him don’t like th’ idee iv havin’ him know what 
kind iv man his father was. Whin he asks : 
‘ Where’s pah ’ They say : 1 He died in jail.’ 
‘What happened in 1805*?’ says th’ boy. ‘In 
1805,’ says th’ Austhreeches, ‘th’ bar-rn blew down.’ 
‘In 1806^’ says th’ boy. ‘In 1806 th’ chimney 
smoked.’ ‘Not so/ says th’ prince. ‘ In 1806 me 
father crossed th’ Rhine an’ up,’ he says, ‘ th’ ar-rmed 
camps he marched to Augaspiel, to Lieberneck, to 
Donnervet. He changed his boots at Mikelstraus 
an’ down th’ eagle swooped on Marcobrun,’ he says. 
‘ Me gran’dad fled as flees th’ hen befure th’ hawk, 
but dad stayed not till gran’pa, treed, besought f’r 
peace. That’s what me father done unto me gran’- 
dad in eighteen six.’' At this p’int he coughs but 
ye sees he knew what was goin’ on, bein’ taught in 
secret be a lady iv th’ stage fr’m whom manny a 
la-ad cud larn th’ truth about his father. 

“ Still he can’t be persuaded f’r to apply f’r th’ 
[252] 


•• L’ AIGLON " 


vacant improrship on account iv his lungs, till wan 
day a tailor shows up to measure him f’r some 
clothes. Th’ tailor d’ye mind is a rivolutionist in 
disguise, an’ has come down fr’m Paris f’r to injooce 
th’ young man to take th’ vacancy. 4 Fourteen, six, 
thirty-three. How’ll ye have th’ pants made, Im- 
pror ? ’ says th’ tailor. 4 Wan or two hip pockets ? ’ 
says he. 

“‘Two hips,’ says young Napolyon. 4 What do 
ye mean be that ? ’ he says. 

44 4 Thirty-eight, siventeen, two sides, wan watch, 
buckle behind. All Paris awaits ye, sire.’ ” 

44 4 Make th’ sleeves a little longer thin this,’ says 
th’ boy. 4 An’ fill out th’ shouldhers. What proof 
have IV" 

“‘Wan or two inside pockets V says th’ tailor. 
‘Two insides. Hankerchief pocket? Wan han- 
kerchief. Th’ pants is warn much fuller this 
year. Make that twinty-eight instid iv twinty- 
siven,’ he says. ‘ Paris shrieks f’r ye,’ he says. 

“ 4 Proof,’ says th’ la-ad. 

“‘They’ve named a perfume afther ye, a shirt 
waist, a paper collar, a five cint seegar, a lot iv 
childer. Nay more, a breakfast dish christened f’r 
ye is on ivry lip. Will I forward th’ soot collect?’ 
he says. 


[253] 


“ L* AIGLON ” 


“‘No, sind th’ bill to me mother/ says th’ boy. 
‘ An’ meet me in th’ park at tin/ he says. 

“ So ’tis planned to seize th’ throne, but it comes 
to nawthin’.” 

“ Why’s that ? ” asked Mr. Hennessy. 

“ F’r th’ same reason that the Irish rivolution failed, 
th’ polis stopped it. Th’ con-spirators met in th’ 
park an’ were nailed be a park polisman. They 
didn’t run in th’ boy, but left him alone in th’ place 
which was where his father wanst fought a battle. 
As he shtands there coughin’ he begins to hear voices 
iv soops that followed th’ ol’ Impror. ‘Comrade’ 
says wan. ‘ Give me ye’er hand.’ ‘ I can’t/ says 
another. ‘ I haven’t wan left.’ ‘ Where’s me leg ? * 
‘ Sarch me.’ ‘ I’ve lost me voice.’ ‘ Me mind is 
shot away.’ ‘ Reach me some wather.’ ‘ Pass th’ 
can.’ ‘A horse is settin’ on me chest.’ ‘What’s 
that? They’se a batthry iv artillery on me.’ ‘ I’ve 
broke something. What is it ? ’ ‘I cannot move 
me leg.’ ‘ Curses on the Cavalry.’ ‘ Have ye got 
th’ time ? ’ ‘ Oh me knee, how it aches me.’ ‘ Ha 

ha. Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha.’ ‘Veev, th’ Im- 
pror.’ ‘ Right about face, shouldher ar-rms, right 
shouldher shift arms. March.’ A harsh, metallic 
voice in the distance : ‘ Gin-rals, leftnant Gin’rals, 
officers, sooz-officers, an’ men — .’ ’Tis th’ boy’s 

[254] 


44 L’AIGLON ” 


father. Th’ boy pulls out his soord an’ says he : 
4 Come on, let’s fight. Play away there band. Blow 
fife and banners wave. Lave me at thim. Come 
on, come on ! ’ an’ he rushes out an’ makes a stab at 
an Austhreech regimint that’s come up to be dhrilled. 
Thin he undherstands ’twas all a dhream with him 
an’ he raysumes his ol’ job. In th’ next act he dies.” 

44 That’s a good act,” said Mr. Hennessy. 

“’Tis fine. In Austhree where this happened 
whin a man dies ivrybody comes in to see him. 
Ye meet a frind on th’ sthreet an’ he says: 4 Come 
on over an see Harrigan jump off.’ So whin th’ 
la-ad is r-ready f ’r to go out ivry body gathers in his 
room. ’Tis a fash’nable ivint, like th’ Horse Show. 
Among those prisint is his mother. She’s a frivolous 
ol’ loon, this Marie Louisa, that was Napolyon’s 
sicond wife, though between you an’ me, Father 
Kelly has niver reconized her as such, th’ Impror 
havin’ a wife livin’ that was as tough as they make 
thim. But annyhow she was there. She hadn’t 
done much f ’r her son, but she come to see him off 
with siv’ral ladies that loved him an’ others. Bein’ 
a busy an’ fashn’able woman she cudden’t raymimber 
his name. At times she called him ‘Frank’ an’ 
thin 4 Fronzwah ’ an’ ‘Fritz’ an’ ‘Ferdynand’ — ’twas 
a name beginnin’ with 4 f ’ she knew that — but he 

[255] 


*• L’ AIGLON ” 


f ’rgive her an’ ast somewan to r-read to him. 4 What 
shall it be ? ’ says a gin’ral. 4 R-read about th’ time 
I was christened,’ says th’ boy. An’ th’ gin’ral 
r-reads: ‘At iliven o’clock at th’ church iv Nothre 
Dame in th’ prisince iv th’ followin’ princes — ” 
4 Cut out th’ princes,’ says th’ la-ad. 4 An’ kings — ’ 
‘F’rget th’ kings,’ says th’ lad. ‘Th’ son iv th’ 
Impror — ’ ‘ He’s dead,’ says th’ doctor. ‘ Put on 

his white soot,’ says th’ Main Thing among th’ 
Austhreeches that was again him fr’m th’ beginnin’. 
An’ there ye ar-re.” 

“ Is that all ? ” asked Mr. Hennessy. 

44 That’s all,” said Mr. Dooley. 

“ He died % ” 

“ He did.” 

“ But he was sthrong r-right up to th’ end.” 

“ He was that. None sthronger.” 

“ An’ what ” asked Mr. Hennessy, “ did they 
do with th’ soot iv clothes he ordhered fr’m th’ 
tailor ” 


[256] 


CASUAL OBSER. 
VATIONS 


O most people a savage nation is wan 
that doesn’t wear oncomf’rtable clothes. 


Manny people’d rather be kilt at 
Newport thin at Bunker Hill. 


If ye live enough befure thirty ye won’t care to 
live at all afther fifty. 


As Shakespere says, be thrue to ye’ersilf an’ ye 
will not thin be false to ivry man. 

Play actors, orators an’ women ar-re a class be 
thimsilves. 



Among men, Hinnissy, wet eye manes dhry 
heart. 

[257] 


CASUAL OBSERVATIONS 


Th’ nearest anny man comes to a con-ciption iv 
his own death is lyin’ back in a comfortable coffin 
with his ears cocked f’r th’ flatthrin’ remarks iv th’ 
mourners. 

A fanatic is a man that does what he thinks th’ 
Lord wud do if He knew th’ facts iv th’ case. 


A millionyaire — or man out iv debt — wanst tol’ 
me his dhreams always took place in th’ farm-house 
where he was bor-rn. He said th’ dhreamin’ part 
iv his life was th’ on’y part that seemed real. 

’Tis no job to find out who wrote an anonymous 
letter. Jus’ look out iv th’ window whin ye get it. 
’Tis harder to do evil thin good be stealth. 

A German’s idee iv Hivin is painted blue an’ has 
cast-iron dogs on th’ lawn. 

No man was iver so low as to have rayspict f’r 
his brother-in-law. 

Th’ modhren idee iv governmint is ‘ Snub th’ 
people, buy th’ people, jaw th’ people.’ 

I wisht I was a German an’ believed in ma- 
chinery. 


[258] 


CASUAL OBSERVATIONS 

A vote 01 th’ tallysheet is worth two in the box. 


I care not who makes th’ laws iv a nation if I 
can get out an injunction. 


An Englishman appears resarved because he 
can’t talk. 

What China needs is a Chinese exclusion act. 


All th’ wurruld loves a lover — excipt sometimes 
th’ wan that’s all th’ wurruld to him. 


A nation with colonies is kept busy. Look at 
England ! She’s like wan iv th’ Swiss bell-ringers. 

Th’ paramount issue f ’r our side is th’ wan th’ 
other side doesn’t like to have mintioned. 


If ye put a beggar on horseback ye’ll walk ye’er- 
silf. 

It takes a sthrong man to be mean. A mean 
man is wan that has th’ courage not to be gin’rous. 
Whin I give a tip ’tis not because I want to but 
because I’m afraid iv what th’ waiter’ll think. Rus- 
sell Sage is wan iv Nature’s noblemen. 

[259] 


CASUAL OBSERVATIONS 


An autocrat’s a ruler that does what th’ people 
wants an’ takes th’ blame f’r it. A constitootional 
ixicutive, Hinnissy, is a ruler that does as he dam 
pleases an’ blames th’ people. 

’Tis as hard f’r a rich man to enther th’ kingdom 
iv Hiven as it is f’r a poor man to get out iv 
Purgatory. 

Evil communications corrupt good Ph’lippeens. 

Ivry man has his superstitions. If I look at a 
new moon over me shoulder I get a crick in me 
neck. 

Thrust ivrybody — but cut th’ ca-ards. 

If Rooshia wud shave we’d not be afraid iv her. 


Some day th’ Ph’lippeens ’ll be known as th’ 
Standard Isles iv th’ Passyfic. 

A woman’s sinse iv humor is in her husband’s 
name. 

Most women ought niver to look back if they 
want a following. 


If ye dhrink befure siven ye’ll cry befure iliven. 

[ 2 6 ° ] 


CASUAL OBSERVATIONS 


A man that’d expict to thrain lobsters to fly in a 
year is called a loonytic; but a man that thinks 
men can be tur-rned into angels be an diction is 
called a rayformer an’ remains at large. 

Th’ throuble with most iv us, Hinnissy, is we 
swallow pollytical idees befure they’re ripe an’ they 
don’t agree with us. 

Dhressmakers’ bills sinds women into lithrachoor 
an’ men into an early decline. 

A bur-rd undher a bonnet is worth two on th’ 
crown. 

People tell me to be frank, but how can I be 
whin I don’t dare to know mesilf? 


People that talk loud an’ offind ye with their in- 
solence are usu’lly shy men thryin’ to get over their 
shyness. ’Tis th’ quite, resarved, ca’m spoken man 
that’s mashed on himsilf. 


If men cud on’y enjye th’ wealth an’ position th’ 
newspapers give thim whin they’re undher arrest! 
Don’t anny but prominent clubman iver elope or 
embezzle ? 


[261] 


CASUAL OBSERVATIONS 


Miditation is a gift con-fined to unknown phil- 
osophers an’ cows. Others don’t begin to think till 
they begin to talk or write. 

A good manny people r-read th’ ol’ sayin* “ Lar- 
ceny is th’ sincerest form iv flatthry.” 

’Tis a good thing th’ fun’ral sermons ar-re not 
composed in th’ confissional. 

Most vigitaryans I iver see looked enough like 
their food to be classed as cannybals. 

I don’t see why anny man who believes in medi- 
cine wud shy at th’ faith cure. 

Miracles are laughed at be a nation that r-reads 
thirty millyon newspapers a day an’ supports Wall 
sthreet. 

All men are br-rave in comp’ny an’ cow’rds alone, 
but some shows it clearer thin others. 

I’d like to tell me frind Tiddy that they’se a 
strenuse life an’ a sthrenuseless life. 

I’d like to’ve been ar-round in th’ times th’ his- 
torical novelists writes about — but I wudden’t like 
to be in th’ life insurance business. 

[ 262 ] 

& i 1945 


CASUAL OBSERVATIONS 


I wondher why porthrait painters look down on 
phrenologists. 

Di-plomacy is a continyual game iv duck on th’ 
rock — with France th’ duck. 


Whin we think we’re makin’ a gr-reat hit with 
th’ wurruld we don’t know what our own wives 
thinks iv us. 


[263] 
















































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